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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28413780">Case of the Serpent's Shadow: A Hammer Mystery</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/KilroyHiggins/pseuds/KilroyHiggins'>KilroyHiggins</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Hammer Mysteries [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Detective Noir, Film Noir, Gen, Hammer Mystery, Hufflepuff Neville Longbottom, Investigations, Mystery, Ravenclaw, Ravenclaw Harry Potter, Ravenclaw Hermione Granger</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 17:48:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>70,184</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28413780</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/KilroyHiggins/pseuds/KilroyHiggins</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>What should have been a routine investigation into a cold case of a ghostly student’s murder leads Harry ‘The Hammer’ Potter-Mason back down a dark road where he finds himself the right wizard at the wrong time in the right place to see his peers petrified one by one. Seeing the similarities between past and present, The Hammer works the old case and the new with the help of his trusted friends and investigation team to bring the true killer to justice only to find that it leads back to the only person who could have started all of this: the Dark Lord Voldemort.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Hammer Mysteries [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2081055</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello! This is a sequel to the Case of the Cintamani Stone! If you haven't read that one please go read it first, otherwise some of the assumptions in this one won't make any sense!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Harry Potter-Mason watched the idle screen of an arcade machine devolve into a kaleidoscope of colours and sound. A child sized Stetson fedora rested on his knee, idly shaking whilst a walkman playing a library copy of the Shadow radio play fell on deaf ears. The cheap plastic of the seat cover squeaked along to the rhythm of his bouncing leg. The problem started last night when his adoptive father sat him down and told him that he needed to talk to him seriously - man to growing man. This had been the first time since he had been pulled out of primary school for a fight that Grant had sat him down to do that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe that wasn’t quite where the trouble began. Today was July 31st, Harry’s birthday, which was a few weeks into the summer holiday - and a few weeks since he had started up summer lessons on Muggle - non-magical - subjects. Harry looked at the copybook sitting across his lap, the literature and humanities notes he had written in a shaky shorthand coming across as a blur of swirls and lines. Hermione, his friend, fellow student and London resident, had found a copy of the Gregg shorthand instruction book at the library and Harry had been more than happy to dive right in with her. Being able to disguise their notes to each other from the tutor was a good thing - especially if they were talking about magic. Hermione’s muggle parents, dentists Tom and Fiona Granger, had found the tutors and suggested it to Grant and Petunia a week after they had gotten home from school.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you hear what they learned at that school?” Harry had caught the conversation his father had on the phone before it all got started, “It’s all magic! No maths, no science, not even a hint of English!” There had been a pause.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She taught herself? That’s pretty impressive, Tom. But-” Harry had finished climbing the stairs to his room shortly after that when he heard his mum, really his aunt Petunia, coming through the hall.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It had turned out that both sets of parents were worried that their children weren’t getting well rounded educations by attending a strange, magical school in the Scottish highlands. For Harry it seemed almost like a dream that a year ago an owl had shown up at his bedroom window with a letter confirming his attendance to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. His parents were right - of course - that he certainly hadn’t learned standard classes but instead a mixture of charms, potions, transfiguration, astronomy, flying, defence against the dark arts, and quite a few other things that would have made a normal school teacher balk.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>However, the most important lesson was something that had dominated Harry’s life since he was able to think on it: how his birth parents Lily and James Potter had died. To him, that was the central mystery of his life and with that owl’s arrival he had the opportunity to learn that it was a murder mystery. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That revelation had changed the world for him. It gave him the opportunity to don the fedora of a detective and crack the case as The Hammer. James and Lily had been betrayed by a close friend and murdered by one Dark Lord Voldemort, a wizard powerful enough to rate the terror of all of magical Britain, but also fail to kill Harry himself. The Hammer still wanted a face to face with that betrayer, especially after having to deal with a not-quite-dead Voldemort in the last school year. For the Hammer, it was the kind of rush he could only get in a real case. And yet, that still wasn’t quite the problem he was worried about. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Going that far back wasn’t useful to anyone - there were too many other tangential questions. Really, his confusion all centered around the conversation with his father and by extension his continuing friendship with the girl genius he had met last year on the train to school.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Listen, Harry, you’ve been spending a lot of time with Hermione lately, and you’re just about that age so your mother and I think it’s about time we talked about some things.” Grant had sat down on Harry’s bed whilst the Hammer had taken up residence in his favorite thinking chair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, dad?” Harry asked after a longer than normal pause on Grant’s part. His father rubbed the back of his neck, stumbling over the words he was so normally good at.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re coming up on the age where you’re going to become a man, Harry.” Grant was looking all over the room trying to dig up the words he wanted to say, his eyes pausing on the thought board on the wall. Harry played with his hat in his lap, waiting. “I mean, like physically. D’you know what I mean, son?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m going to get taller and I might be able to grow a beard or at least a five o’clock shadow, right?” Harry was worried before about a growth spurt - it was hard and expensive finding out-of-fashion clothing in his sizes - but with magic it’d be a lot easier to keep a hat on his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I mean, yes, but also that wasn’t quite what I meant.” Grant said, his face contorting with the difficulty of trying to explain what he was getting at.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What I mean is that, at some point you’re going to see girls your age differently. Or maybe even boys, I guess.” Grant trailed off again, hoping his precocious son would finally catch the hint.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you mean, dad?” Grant ran a hand down his face, taking the time to just gather all the different things he wanted to say. “Listen, Harry, when a man and a woman…” Grant had started from the top with how babies were made. He got into the minutiae about trusting people before hopping into bed with them and about what and how to use a condom. It was a lot. The Hammer took off the headphones from his ears and hit the stop button on his cassette player before flicking the switch off. His father never had made the point to him about why he had connected all of that to spending his time with Hermione. She was a nice gal, and a bedrock part of his investigation team, but what did she have to do with that whole speech? Harry wiped cold sweat off of his forehead, the uncomfortable thumping of blood in his ears. He didn’t know what to do with all of the information Grant had laid onto him in a hurry. His father had even given him a hug and kissed him on top of his head when he was done. It was weird.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry certainly couldn’t ask Hermione about it. They had been seeing each other more days of the week than not thanks to the tutoring schedule their parents had arranged. It was the gamut of keeping the two of them up to date with their peers in a summer scramble through the sciences, humanities, and maths. Of course she was having no trouble with it - information seemed to just flow right into her like a sponge - but Harry was more concerned with trying to start up his Detective business again over their holiday.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He undid the cuffs on his button-up shirt and rolled up the sleeves to the garters. He was getting warm despite the air conditioning pouring out a chilly breeze nearby. Harry had found this arcade on the third day of tutoring - it was on their walk home to the overground stop, stocked with a plethora of cabinets, a fair few ticket machines for the prize wall, and a lounge in the back where the teenage employee didn’t care if he hung out so long as he bought something, even if it was just the quid tokens to play. Harry had taken to it immediately, even if Hermione had been less impressed, and as far as he was concerned this was the current headquarters of the Hammer’s Detective Agency for the summer holiday. She had decided to go home today rather than staying with him to work on homework, citing the fact that the arcade lounge smelled of “Old nachos and teen angst.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So, Harry spent the afternoon in the arcade alone - he’d catch the overground home and likely be back in time to celebrate his birthday with his parents. Birthday celebrations had always been rather subdued affairs - maybe he should have invited Hermione and Neville this year. His other wizard friend and trusted member of his investigation team, Neville Longbottom was a pure-blood wizard from a family where everyone was a wizard, making some of his interactions a little bit strange for the modern world, but one thing Harry could point out was that it would be rude in either culture to not write your friends for weeks into the summer holiday. Harry wondered why he hadn’t heard from him since leaving school - even if the Hammer didn’t own an owl, he was sure the Longbottom family one would be more than happy to wait around to deliver his replies if he fed it. Maybe it was Nev’s grandmother Augusta trying to reign in his behaviour. Harry slapped his cheeks, trying to wake himself from the stupor he had caught himself in. Being in the detective agency was meant to be a return to the basics: magic or no magic, detective work was the same all around and coming to the right conclusions was only a process. Magic just made it so the far fetched possibilities were simply more likely.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A musical tune played out over the arcade speakers, muddled by the individual sirens’ songs of the arcade cabinets, but distinct enough to remind Harry that an hour had passed. He looked around, focus going from shadow to shadow between each cabinet. He had always felt like there was something else - something hiding amongst them like they were watching him. Staring particularly hard in between a set of Street Fighter cabinets, the Hammer caught onto something that looked like two enormous green eyes staring back at him. He bolted upright in the chair, blinking to make sure it wasn’t just his eyes playing tricks on him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And like that, they were gone - just the faded fluorescent paint of the partially carpeted pillar sitting in the half-light between the cabinets. Harry wiped his brow again before picking his hat up off the floor from where it had fallen, placing it on top of his head. He walked over and bought an overpriced Coca-Cola from the pockmarked teenager running the stand. It was almost the last of his muggle savings - the money had come from the proceeds from a gimme case his neighbor, Mrs. Figg, had given him to help her track down one of her missing cats a week ago. She knew about magic, but somehow wasn’t magic herself. It was something the Hammer was still thinking over.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry sat back down into the chair and reached forward to pop open the soda only to see a tiny little… someone already standing on the coffee table. The Hammer reached a finger over the top of the can, breaking the seal with a sad little hiss as he met the gaze of the little humanoid’s enormous green eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh. Hello.” The Hammer spoke tentatively to it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Harry Potter!” It spoke, a high pitched voice that was lost to the beeps and boops of the arcade machines around them. The Hammer was glad for the extra noise and the fact that the attendant almost never paid attention to him. “So long has Dobby wanted to meet you sir… Such an honour it is…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer took a very long sip on the soda, using the time to look the little thing over - it had shoved its bulbous head and bat-like ears through a ragged old pillow case, two additional holes for arms along the side and the rest of it girded around its legs. It honestly reminded Harry of someone sitting next to the Doll family chanting ‘gooble gobble one of us’.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I, uh, don’t think I’m that impressive, pal. But, why don’t you tell me who you are?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dobby, sir. Just Dobby. Dobby the house-elf.” House-elf?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So what brings you here today, Dobby the house-elf?” The Hammer set down the soda on the other side of the table from where Dobby was standing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, yes, sir,” Dobby began in earnest, “Dobby has come to tell you, sir… it is difficult, sir… Dobby wonders where to begin…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why don’t you take a seat, pal? Take some time to figure it out.” The Hammer motioned toward the chair opposite his, inviting the new potential client to tell him his woes. To his horror, the little house-elf’s eyes welled with tears before he burst into noisy crying.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“S-sit down!” he wailed, “Never… never ever…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I-I mean, you can stay standing if you want. Whatever’s more comfortable.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Comfortable!” Dobby redoubled his abject sobbing and wailing. Harry wasn’t good with crying folks. He especially wasn’t good with magical crying folk.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Er, sorry, didn’t mean to offend you or anything.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Offend Dobby!” The elf choked, “Dobby has never been asked to sit down by a wizard - like an equal - “</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry stood up and walked the elf to the edge of the table and helped him up into the opposite chair. He looked like a forlorn prop from a forgotten silent picture film about Nosferatu’s cousin. At last, Dobby managed to contain himself and sat hiccoughing, his great eyes fixed on Harry in watery adoration.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Haven’t met too many good wizards in your time, then.” Harry commented as he sat back down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dobby shook his head. Then without warning, he leapt up and went to the water fountain and began banging his head furiously into it - occasionally managing to hit the button on the side and spurting a small stream of water onto himself whilst shouting, “Bad Dobby! BAD BAD Dobby!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer leapt from his seat and dragged the elf away from the fountain, sitting him back down into the chair. He placed a hand over his mouth and looked over his shoulder at the counter - thankfully the attendant had put on headphones in the lull in business and was bobbing his head whilst cleaning a snack spill in another direction.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you doing, Dobby?” Harry asked, afraid to sit back down lest the elf resume banging his head on more delicate appliances.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dobby had to punish himself, sir.” The elf replied with a sniffle, wringing out the little bit of water from the edge of his pillowcase covering, “Dobby almost spoke ill of his family, sir…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your family?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The wizard family Dobby serves, sir… Dobby is a house-elf bound to serve one house and one family forever.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sounds like slavery to me, pal. Did they send you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh no, sir, no… Dobby will have to punish himself most grievously for coming to see you, sir. Dobby will have to shut his ears in the oven door for this. If they ever knew, sir-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Won’t they know that you shut your ears in the oven door?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dobby doubts it, sir. Dobby is always having to punish himself for something, sir. They lets Dobby get on with it, sir. Sometimes they reminds me to do extra punishments…” Harry winced. He felt for the wretched little elf.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can’t you just run away? High tail it out of town?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A house-elf must be set free, sir. And the family will never set Dobby free… Dobby will serve the family until he dies, sir…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer slumped down into his chair, contemplating what the house-elf had told him, “That sounds like a raw deal. Did you want my help to get you free?’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dobby began wailing in gratitude again, making Harry stand up to check on the attendant before trying to quiet the elf down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Harry Potter asks if he can help Dobby… Dobby has heard of your greatness, sir, but your goodness, Dobby never knew…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Whatever greatness anyone’s told you about isn’t really of note. I’m just a regular hawkshaw getting by.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Harry Potter is humble and modest,” said Dobby reverently, his eyes shining like Christmas ornaments, “Harry Potter speaks not of his triumph over He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What, Voldemort?” said Harry.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The elf clapped his hands over his bat-ears and moaned, “Ah, speak not the name, sir! Speak not the name!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry. Seems like all the magic folk can’t stand it. Nev would go all pale…” The Hammer stopped himself from musing to the elf.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dobby leant towards Harry, eyes wide, “Dobby heard tell,” he spoke in a hoarse whisper, “That Harry Potter met the Dark Lord for a second time, just weeks ago… that Harry Potter escaped again!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer cocked an eyebrow. Word traveled fast. “Yeah, I suppose so.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, sir.” Dobby gasped</span>
  <b>, </b>
  <span>dabbing his face with a corner of the pillowcase he was wearing, “Harry Potter is valiant and bold! He has braved so many dangers already! But Dobby has come to protect Harry Potter, to warn him, even if he </span>
  <em>
    <span>does</span>
  </em>
  <span> have to shut his ears in the oven door later… </span>
  <em>
    <span>Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer sat down on the edge of the coffee table and leaned down with one elbow on his knee toward the elf, “Why’s that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because, sir, if Harry Potter goes back to Hogwarts, he will be in mortal danger. Harry Potter must stay where he is safe. He is too great, too good, to lose.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What kind of mortal danger?” The Hammer asked with a gleam in his eye. Things were getting good.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There is a plot, Harry Potter. A plot to make most terrible things happen at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year,” Dobby whispered. The Hammer pulled out his pocket notebook and began to jot down the highlights - starting with the house-elf and relevant times and what he was presenting to him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dobby has known it for months, sir. Harry Potter must not put himself in peril. He is too important, sir!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can you tell me what kind of things, Dobby? Who’s plotting it? Who’s going to be involved?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The house elf’s eyes darted left and right, a strangled little sound escaping from his throat before he hopped up off the chair and began to bang his head against the arm rest. Harry yanked the elf’s arm to get him to stop making noise.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine! I get it! Jeez this magic stuff is a pain in the neck.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He managed to convince Dobby to have a seat again before asking, “This doesn’t have anything to do with ol’ Voldy does it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The house-elf grimaced, but shook his head negatively.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is it someone who works for him? Someone the old Dark Lord might’ve worked for? Someone who </span>
  <em>
    <span>used</span>
  </em>
  <span> to work for him?” Harry continued his line of questioning. The elf shook his head from side to side at each one except the last.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright - but this means that whoever it is,” Harry held up a warning finger, “is currently alive,” Dobby nodded, “Doesn’t like me,” Dobby nodded, “Has an association with You-Know-That-Guy” Dobby nodded, “And has access to Hogwarts.” Dobby did a little side to side motion with his head that wasn’t quite a nod or a shake.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well at the very least, the Chief should be on the lookout for something. You know, Dumbledore?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dobby bowed his head low, “Albus Dumbledore is the greatest headmaster Hogwarts has ever had. Dobby knows it, sir. Dobby has heard Dumbledore’s powers rival those of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named at the height of his strength, but sir,” Dobby dropped his voice into a confiding whisper, “there are powers Dumbledore doesn’t… powers no decent wizard…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before the Hammer could stop him, he was back at the water fountain, re-soaking himself. Harry pulled him away from the dented fixture by both wrists and held on this time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’d be easier if I had someone who knew about magic. Figured Nev would be all over this if he was here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A friend who doesn’t even write Harry Potter?” Dobby tried to be sly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re intercepting my letters.” The Hammer accused him, lifting the elf up off the floor by his wrists and shaking him gently. In a flash, the Hammer found that he wasn’t holding onto anything - Dobby was very suddenly in the corner next to the water fountain. The elf pulled out a small stack of letters from inside his pillowcase. He saw the majority of them had Neville’s handwriting. A few peeking out were in a scribble that looked like they were from Hagrid. A part of Harry was glad he and Hermione had their mundane connections. He didn’t know what he would do if she wasn’t just a phone call away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I knew he wouldn’t forget to write. Stealing mail is a felony, Dobby. Give it back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Harry Potter mustn’t be angry… Dobby hoped… if Harry Potter thought his friends had forgotten him… Harry Potter might not want to go back to school, sir…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well ya did a lousy job - I’ve been with Hermione almost every day and she’s more magical than half the school put together. Give me my mail back, Dobby.” Harry squared up to Dobby, both of his hands up, getting ready to pounce at the elf.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, sir. Not until Harry Potter says that he’s not going back to school.” The Hammer lunged for him, but found himself crashing into the corner - Dobby had materialized next to the arcade cabinets behind him. Harry straightened his hat and began to get up when Dobby placed a hand against the nearest cabinet like a threat. Harry froze.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Harry Potter will have them, sir, if he gives Dobby his word that he will not return to Hogwarts. Ah, sir, this is a danger you must not face! Say you won’t go back, sir!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, Dobby. If I’m not there to face the danger, then there’ll be someone else that will have to face it. I have to go back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dobby took in a great sniff, wiping a tear from one eye before saying again, “Harry Potter must say he’s not going back to school.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t, Dobby, I have to go. That’s final.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dobby gave him a tragic look.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then Dobby must, sir. For Harry Potter’s own good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The music playing from the machine Dobby was touching began to distort, playing faster and more warbly while the pictures on its screen distorted into a pixelated rainbow of lights and colours.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh crap.” The Hammer muttered to himself as electricity began to arc along the surface of the case. In an instant, it exploded into a shower of sparks and began ejecting the coinage from inside it with a gusto that would have made a pitching machine jealous. The little arcs of lightning danced from the cabinet and spread to the ones next to it, making those break out into the same kaleidoscope of sparks, tickets, and one pound coins flooding from the machines. The Hammer fell onto his butt in the corner, into the puddle of water Dobby had left behind, holding an arm up to shield his eyes from the spectacle and using his other hand to hold onto his hat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After the third wave of crackling and explosions a heavy silence settled as the broken stucco drifted down from the ceiling. The PA played a sad, distorted rendition of the half hour chime, fritzing out at the end before the speaker popped. The attendant screamed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The manager had come out from the back office and began to curse in a way Harry had never heard before. Putting a pinky into his ear and twisting it round to clear his head, the Hammer started picking up his books and placing them into his knapsack, trying to avoid eye contact whilst the manager raged. Things didn’t look good for the future of the Detective Agency’s headquarters.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the end it was all too fantastical for the muggle manager to believe that a 12 year old could be responsible for this much chaos. Thankfully, the man’s concerns had been with Harry’s wellbeing for liability reasons rather than threatening to phone the police. So, a little stunned but no worse for wear, Harry stumbled home with Dobby’s warning in his ears.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he got home, his parents were already waiting for him with an owl-delivered letter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This, uh, came for you today.” Grant handed him the open letter. It was addressed to Harry, care of Mr. &amp; Mrs. Mason.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Dear Mr. Potter-Mason,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>We have received intelligence that a sparking charm was used in the vicinity of the Anorak video arcade at twenty minutes past four. As you know, underage wizards are not permitted to perform spells outside of school, and further spellwork on your part may lead to expulsion from said school (Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage sorcery, 1875, Paragraph C).</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>We would also ask you to remember that any magical activity which risks notice by members of the non-magical community (Muggles) is a serious offence, under section 13 of the International Confederation of Warlocks’ Statute of Secrecy.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Seeing as you have used a spell in a public place - this notice serves as your first and final warning before administrative action will be taken.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Enjoy your holidays!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Yours Sincerely,</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Mafalda Hopkirk</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Improper use of Magic Office</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Ministry of Magic”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry read the letter over three times, cursing the Trace under his breath more strongly each time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you take your wand to class today?” Petunia asked him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, mum, it’s up in my room like I said it was. You can go check if you want. I was framed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We believe you, son, but what happened?” Grant put a hand on Harry’s shoulder. The Hammer took his hat off and walked to the living room, explaining as he went - that some magical creature had decided to pull a prank on him and made the arcade short out. He left out the fact that Dobby had tried to warn him about the big plan that was trying to kill him or the fact that the arcade was now in ruins. The Hammer didn’t know how much longer he’d be able to continue hiding the danger from his parents’ knowledge. His mother ambushed him, placing both hands on his face to hold his attention, “You know we’re concerned because we’re worried about your safety, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know. Just that magical people are apparently a little more durable than most folks. I’m fine, mum, really.” Harry put both of his hands over hers, trying to be as reassuring as he could in spite of the severity of the letter he had received. She looked at him a moment before kissing his forehead, leaving him to get ready for dinner. Harry hung his hat up and picked up the phone. He needed to talk to Hermione.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Hermione didn’t quite know what to make of it, either. Though she agreed with Harry's resignation on the matter that whatever the trouble was going to be, he would be better off facing it head on so that other people wouldn’t have to. With the news that his mail was being stolen, she offered to send a letter to Neville to warn him about the changes and assure him that Harry was still alive and doing fine, though there wouldn’t be a great way for them to communicate until the start of term.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Life went on as usual, the two muggle families continued to send their children to summer lessons, though with Grant’s insistence they spent the rest of their time going to and from the classes together and always came straight back home.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Almost a month later, Hermione called sounding more excited than she had ever been over the summer,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Harry! Did you see?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“See what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The new book list, dummy!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I just got the letter earlier today. I was going to call you about going to Diagon Alley for all our supplies soon, when were you going?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The nineteenth, does that work for you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think so-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Also, I’m bringing both of my parents. They came with me last time, I think you should bring yours as well, it’d help ground them in everything we do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sounds like a plan, I’ll bring it up with them.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But did you see our new reading list? It’s almost all of the books </span>
  <em>
    <span>Gilderoy Lockhart</span>
  </em>
  <span> has written!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who is that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a huff on Hermione’s side of the phone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Harry</span>
  </em>
  <span>. This is </span>
  <em>
    <span>the</span>
  </em>
  <span> Gilderoy Lockhart!” She said like it meant something, “Order of Merlin, 3rd class? Honorary member of the Dark Force Defence League?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hermione, where did you even hear about this guy?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She mumbled something about a witch’s tabloid. At that point Harry had grabbed his Hogwarts Letter for the year and gotten to the required books parchment, aside from the next level of the Goshawk text, it really was just all books by Lockhart.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 by Miranda Goshawk</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Break with a Banshee by Gilderoy Lockhart</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Gadding with Ghouls by Gilderoy Lockhart</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Holidays with Hags by Gilderoy Lockhart</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Travels with Trolls by Gilderoy Lockhart</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Voyages with Vampires by Gilderoy Lockhart</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Wanderings with Werewolves by Gilderoy Lockhart</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Year with the Yeti by Gilderoy Lockhart”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>From the way she was going on about him, Harry surmised he was some kind of wizarding world heart throb girls would be into. Something about the description made Harry distinctly uncomfortable, but he couldn’t put a finger on a single reason why. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With their plans set, Harry planned to arrive fashionably late - waiting around in wizard country was just asking to be accosted by well meaning fans and all manner of wizards and witches who wanted to thank Harry for his services in defeating Voldemort. The Hammer was hoping to hide the extent of his celebrity from his mum and dad. He just wanted to be Harry to them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Harry!” Hermione called out to him as soon as they had come into the Leaky Cauldron - a worn down, dilapidated little pub on Charing Cross that Harry’s parents had completely missed before he took their hands and led them in through the front door, confused looks on their faces.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How are you, Angel?” Harry asked, letting go of the handle to his trunk and patting her on the back after she had thrown her arms around his neck in a hug. She had tamed her bushy brown hair into a partial halo braid. It looked good.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I feel like I should tell the desk sergeant about this place.” Grant commented idly as Harry waved to Tom, the old barkeep who owned the place.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They wouldn’t believe you anyway, dad. There’s spells on this place to keep muggles out. Let’s go before people start asking why we’re standing around.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His reintroduction to the wizarding world the last year had been extremely eventful, but now that his presence was old news the sparse denizens of the Leaky Cauldron were happy enough to let them pass through with a few odd looks but no congratulatory handshakes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Would you like to do the honors?” Harry asked once they were out back in the little enclave with a ratty dustbin and brick wall. Hermione beamed, turning to her parents and explaining what was going to happen in her excited rapidfire. Harry just gave his parents a look that read, “Watch this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The little witch stepped up to the brick wall and produced her wand from under her clothes and began to tap the secret sequence into the otherwise unassuming brick wall - standing up on her tiptoes to reach some of the taller bricks. The last time Harry had come through this entrance, he had been with Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper, so there wasn’t even a concern as to how high up the bricks had been.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When she was done tapping, the brick wall began to fold in on itself, revealing a small hole at first which slowly expanded out with the click-clack of expanding tile to a double-wide entrance to the magical world beyond. Petunia took hold of Grant’s arm for support, looking into the oddities of the alley. Harry took hold of his father’s hand and stepped through to the other side before turning back to check on them. Hermione was still urging her own parents through the entrance, Tom and Fiona looking ever so confused in the process.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really, it’s not that different from the outside, dad.” Harry tried to ease the transition, “Just everyone’s a little bit weirder.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I, uh, right son. My son, the wizard. Magic is real.” Grant muttered the last half to himself whilst reading the sale announcement board of the local chemist advertising a fair price on Pixie powder and dragon liver.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where to first?” Harry asked Hermione.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I need to go change money to Galleons and such.” She said, smiling before she took a quick look back toward Tom and Fiona. Her parents had taken a liking to the cauldron shop’s display of different sized and moulded models.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gringotts it is, then.” Harry took a hold of Petunia’s hand while Hermione got her parents’ attention.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Out in front of the white marble steps of Gringotts, their group saw a familiar figure towering over the rest of the crowd holding a metal can of something in his left hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hagrid!” The Hammer called out to his gigantic friend as they approached.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hammer! Hermione! Good ter see yeh!” He waved to them with his free hand as the two children ran up to give him a hug, their heads barely past his waist.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you doing here, Hagrid?” Harry asked as the giant introduced himself to Hermione’s parents, the latter looking stunned at the enormity of a man. Grant and Petunia smiled and shook his hand - thankful it wasn’t the first time they had the pleasure of running into him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, just picking up some Flesh Eating Slug repellent from Knockturn Alley.” He held up the metal can to show them the label. Off to his side, from within the entrance to Knockturn Alley, Harry noticed a tall, blonde man with sharp features and a boy in the ballpark of his carbon copy exiting the venue, similar scowls from both of their faces. The idiom about apples and trees came to mind as Harry heard his father ask, “Nocturnally?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, Harry, why was it yeh never wrote back ter me?” Hagrid asked him. Harry looked left and right, seeing his parents there and caught up in the obvious omission of Dobby’s actions, he gave Hermione a pleading look. She caught the hint and turned Hagrid away by pulling on his finger and explained it to him in quiet tones as Harry pointed at the Quidditch shop and began to say something about it to distract Grant and Petunia.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Eh? Stolen? Preposterous!” Hagrid reacted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A tap on Harry’s shoulder caused him to turn toward it, but he found no one standing there. Another tap on his opposite shoulder made him spin round to the other side and there he was greeted by the twin smiling faces of Fred and George Weasley, their bright red hair covered in a thin layer of soot.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hammer,” “Fancy running into you here.” They spoke in turn, exchanging sentences to completion.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fred! George! How are you rascals?” The Hammer shook their hands and started introducing them to his parents when the entirety of the rest of the Weasley clan showed up to interrupt their introductions and add even more. Harry already knew Ron, but then there was also Ginevra - Ginny otherwise, Percy the Prefect, and their parents Molly and Arthur.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Somewhere in the middle of it, realizing that Harry and Hermione would be in good hands, Hagrid bid them farewell and strode off, head and shoulders above everyone else in the crowd.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, but you’re all Muggles!” Arthur Weasley seemed to have taken on a new glow when introduced to Harry and Hermione’s parents.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s what everyone keeps telling us.” Grant said with a lopsided grin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We </span>
  <em>
    <span>must</span>
  </em>
  <span> have a drink!” The senior Weasley proclaimed, “What’s that you’ve got there? Oh that’s right, you must be here to change Muggle money! Molly, look!” He pointed excitedly at the folded ten-pound notes Mr. Granger had pulled from his pocket.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please, let’s have you do that and we must simply go have a drink. My wife will be more than happy to watch over your children while you’re gone. Isn’t that right, Molly dearest?” Arthur really wanted to know more about all things Muggle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you going to be alright on your own, Harry?” Grant asked him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you have money to go get your school supplies?” Petunia asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah, mum. Lily and James left me … an account. I’ll just go make a withdrawal.” He reassured them. It would be good for them to go make adult wizarding friends too.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The three families went inside and got in line, letting Tom and Fiona go first to exchange their Pounds Sterling for a small sack of a few galleons, some sickles, and a fair share of bronze Knuts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s all so charmingly quaint, isn't it?” Fiona whispered an aside to Petunia as Hermione took possession of the small bag.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ll be back up in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.” Harry said to Hermione before joining Molly and her children whilst Arthur talked to the four adults about how Muggles got on with their lives without being able to do magic.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Everything was a tight fit on the cart with all of them and one of the Goblin attendants. The vaults were located below ground, and accessible only by means of special mine carts running on a precarious rail system. Mrs. Weasley made sure her children were seated properly before encouraging Harry to take a seat next to Ginny, who had turned a beacon-bright shade of red despite the light dusting of soot on her. On second impression, the Hammer enjoyed the breakneck journey down to the Weasley’s vault - the rattling on the cart and obvious lack of safety straps would have made Petunia faint, but the thrill was in the danger.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry’s thrill was immediately subdued when he saw Molly open the family vault, however. He did his best to act like he was reading the label on the inside of his hat, but the vault only contained a rather small pile of silver sickles and a solitary gold Galleon. The matron Weasley felt right into the corners before sweeping the whole lot into her bag. When they reached his own vault, the Hammer made a point to hurry up and shove a few handfuls of Galleons and Sickles into the same canvas bag that Hagrid had given him the year before.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Back outside on the marble steps, they all went their separate ways. Percy muttered something vaguely and disappeared into the crowd. Fred and George spotted their friend and co-conspirator from Hogwarts, Lee Jordan. Mrs. Weasley and Ginny needed to pop over to the second hand robe shop. The three remaining children waved goodbye to Mr. Weasley, the Grangers, and the Masons as Arthur ushered them off to the Leaky Cauldron for a drink as his excuse to bombard them with questions about Muggle life.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ll all meet at Flourish and Blotts in an hour to buy your school books.” said Mrs. Weasley, setting off with Ginny, “and not one step down Knockturn Alley!” she shouted at the twins’ retreating backs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry and Hermione let Ron lead the way - he wasn’t Neville, but it was amusing to see what interested a pure-blood wizard their age. Harry, the solely independently wealthy one of their group, bought three large strawberry and peanut-butter ice creams from the local shoppe not far from the bank, which they slurped happily as they wandered the alley. Ron, predictably, had his entire attention drawn toward the full set of competition robes for a team called the “Chudley Cannons” in the display window of “Quality Quidditch Supplies” until Hermione nudged him off to buy ink and parchment next door. If it hadn’t been for school standards, Harry would’ve just gotten a ream of A4 paper from a shop closer to home. Afterward, they took the time to wander into Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke shop, which Harry had a groan at for how big of a pun the name was. Inside they met Fred, George, and Lee Jordan, all three of whom were extolling the virtues of “Dr. Filibuster’s Fabulous Wet-Start No-Heat fireworks.” and how much could be done with his recipe.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hermione elbowed Harry in the side to stop him from buying such an irresponsible sounding item. Ron gave Harry a commiserating look with a shrug that read ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>I told you so</span>
  </em>
  <span>’.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After departing from the Joke shop, they spotted Percy inside a hole-in-the-wall junk shop full of broken wands, out of spec brass scales and old cloaks covered in various potion stains. Percy was caught up reading a particular biographical book called ‘Prefects Who Gained Power”.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A study of Hogwarts Prefects and their later careers” Ron read aloud off the back cover. “That sounds fascinating…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Go away.” Percy snapped.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That buzzer means bupkis out here, pal, but we’re leaving.” The Hammer tugged on Ron’s arm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“‘Course, he’s very ambitious, Percy. He’s got it all planned out… he wants to be Minister of Magic…” Ron spoke in an undertone as the three of them left the shop.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not bad to have a goal in mind.” Hermione said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m moving to America if Percy ever gets Minister.” Harry added, adjusting his hat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A few more shops and an hour later, the three of them headed back to Flourish and Blotts. The crowd outside was queued round itself past some other storefronts on the street, all jostling amongst each other to get in. Above the door a large banner proclaimed,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“GILDEROY LOCKHART will be signing copies of his autobiography MAGICAL ME today 12.30-4.30 PM”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We can actually meet him!” Hermione squealed, pointing toward the sign in case anyone had missed it, “I mean, he’s written almost the whole book list!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry made a disbelieving face and Ron put a hand on his shoulder again, nodding knowingly. “My mum’s the same way. Bloody disgusting if you ask me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The crowd was made up mostly of witches around Mrs. Weasley’s age. A stressed looking wizard at the door did his best to keep it under control saying, “Calmly ladies… Please… Don’t push, there… mind the books now…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The three children squeezed their way inside, winding through the bustling adults and up the long queue that went toward the back of the shop where Gilderoy Lockhart was signing his books. They each grabbed a copy of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Break with a Banshee</span>
  </em>
  <span> and snuck up to the spot in line where the rest of the Weasleys were already standing with Tom, Fiona, Grant, and Petunia - Arthur still chatting away hypnotically over how exactly coffee machines worked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good, good, there you are.” Mrs. Weasley welcomed them back into the fold, sounding breathless and doing her best to tidy herself before getting any further up the line. Harry turned to look at Petunia, who had an arm wrapped around Grant’s, looking as spectacular as ever. Harry read the back of the Lockhart book in his hands while they waited, going over it for new magical terms he had never heard before, though the copy on the back was action packed and left a lot to be desired when it came to the details of how he actually did what he claimed to do.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Long, intractable minutes later the line progressed through a choke point between some shelves so Arthur pulled the Muggle couples away to get out of the path of the queue, somehow still talking their ears off about Muggle life. Fiona was trying to explain to him exactly what a root canal was and why anyone would willingly sit through it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gilderoy Lockhart slowly came into view, seated at a table surrounded by large pictures of his own face, all winking and flashing dazzlingly white teeth at the crowd. It was like Narcissus had taken the spare time to build a shrine to himself. Harry looked to Hermione and found her rapt attention on Lockhart, with Molly and Ginny not much better off. The Hammer took his hat off to wipe his brow - it felt a little like the walls were closing in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A short, irritable looking man was dancing around taking photographs with a large black camera that emitted puffs of purple smoke with every blinding flash.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Out of the way, there” he snarled at Ron, moving back to get a better shot. “This is for the Daily Prophet.” Harry rolled his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Big deal,” said Ron, rubbing his foot where the photographer had stepped on it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gilderoy Lockhart had heard the exchange. He looked up and saw Ron - and then he caught sight of Harry before he had a chance to put his hat back on. He stared. Then he leapt to his feet and positively shouted, “It </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> be Harry Potter?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Call me the Ham-” Harry didn’t get a chance to finish his normal introduction when Lockhart dove forward into the parting crowd. The larger wizard pulled the Hammer to the front and the crowd burst into applause, causing the Hammer’s face to contort into confusion before Lockhart started shaking his hand for the photographer - who was clicking away madly, wafting thick smoke over the Weasleys.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nice, big smile, Harry,” Lockhart spoke through his own gleaming teeth, “Together you and I rate the front page.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry narrowed his eyes a bit at Lockhart as the man turned back toward the photographer - it was the kind of social manipulation Harry didn’t want to support, but they had dragged The Boy Who Lived out on parade. When he finally let go of Harry’s hand, Harry could hardly feel his fingers. Before he could get back to the Weasleys, Lockhart threw an arm around him and clamped him tightly to his side.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ladies and gentlemen,” He announced, waving for quiet, “What an extraordinary moment this is! This is the perfect moment for me to make a little announcement which I’ve been sitting on for some time!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“When young Harry here stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, he only wanted to buy my autobiography - which I shall be happy to present him now, free of charge - “ the crowd applauded again, “ - he had no idea” Lockhart continued, giving Harry a little shake that unseated his hat and glasses, “that he would shortly be getting much, much more than my book, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Magical Me</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He and his school fellows will, in fact, be getting the real, magical me. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have great pleasure and pride in announcing that this September, I will be taking up the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The crowd cheered and clapped and Harry found himself being presented with the entire works of Gilderoy Lockhart wrapped in a fancy ribbon. Something was burning in the pit of Harry’s stomach that he wasn’t going to let go of. The Hammer wasn’t anybody’s toy. Harry slammed the stack of books down on the table in front of him with a great thump that surprised everyone into silence. Harry put on his best smile and seethed through his teeth at the vapid celebrity wizard, “Play along.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you, thank you everyone!” Harry announced, “But </span>
  <em>
    <span>Professor</span>
  </em>
  <span> Lockhart would also like to announce the formation of a joint scholastic foundation between him and myself to assist overburdened families - The Lockhart-Potter foundation’s first act will be to donate full sets of the Professor’s collected works to the next family in line.” Harry extended a hand to the Weasleys. Molly turned a bright shade of scarlet and looked like she was about to faint as the photographer began to nudge her and her children to the front.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer nudged Lockhart in the side when no one was looking, “Well, want some more free publicity?” he whispered to him. Lockhart gave him the conniving smile of a conspirator, “My my Harry, so you do know a thing or two.” And like that the gleaming pristine publicity smile was back and a fresh round of photographs with the scarlet-faced Weasleys was done for the Daily Prophet. In the ensuing breakup, Harry took the chance to slip away from Lockhart and over next to where Ginny was standing with her new cauldron, a dazed expression on her face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank-” She started to say something to him, with her new stack of Lockhart books shoved hastily into her cauldron, but her voice seemed to get stuck as the shade of scarlet she had turned edged closer to magenta.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bet you loved that, didn’t you, Potter?” said a voice Harry had no trouble recognising. Spinning around, he found himself face to face with Draco Malfoy wearing his usual sneer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Famous Harry Potter,” Malfoy taunted, “Can’t even go into a bookshop without making the front page!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Listen you egg-” Harry began, “Leave him alone!” Ginny stepped in, having found her voice. She glared daggers at Malfoy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Potter, you’ve got yourself a </span>
  <em>
    <span>girlfriend</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” Malfoy continued as Ginny went back to her previous shade of scarlet as Ron and Hermione fought their way over, both clutching enormous stacks of Lockhart’s books.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh. It’s you.” Ron said, looking at Malfoy as if he were something unpleasant on the sole of his shoe. “Bet you’re surprised to see how someone spends their money when they’ve got a proper head on their shoulders.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hermione had heard the last half of the conversation and was squinting at Ginny questioningly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not as surprised as I am to see you in a shop at all, Weasley.” Malfoy retorted, “Though if Potter wasn’t around to give your family a handout they’d have to withdraw you and yours from school because you can’t afford it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ron went as red as Ginny, dropping his books in the cauldron as well before starting toward Malfoy. The Hammer stepped up between them, his hand on his mokeskin pouch. They were all too close together and Malfoy had seen that trick before.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ron!” Arthur Weasley called out to him, struggling over with Fred and George, “What are you doing here? It’s a madhouse, let’s go outside.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, well, well - Arthur Weasley.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was Malfoy senior. He stood with his hand on Draco’s shoulder, sneering in the same way. The Hammer smirked - old man Malfoy hadn’t seen the trick before.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lucius.” Mr. Weasley acknowledged him with the barest of nods.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Busy time at the Ministry, I hear,” Malfoy senior spoke - his tone emulating light small talk, “All those raids… I hope they’re paying you overtime?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He reached into Ginny’s cauldron and extracted, from amidst all the glossy Lockhart books, a very old, very battered copy of </span>
  <em>
    <span>A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mr. Malfoy sneered at it, “Obviously not. Dear me, what’s the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don’t even pay you well for it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur flushed darker than either Ron or Ginny.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy.” He said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Clearly,” Malfoy said, his eyes straying to the two muggle couples watching, “The company you keep, Weasley… and I thought your family could sink-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you got something to say about my parents, Lucy, you can tell me to my damn face. I’ll rearrange it for you like I did for your shit-stain son.” The Hammer was already squaring up with Lucius, the set of brass knuckles from Dumbledore in his fist and tucked up tight.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mr. Weasley saved Harry the trouble, throwing himself bodily at Lucius and knocking him backwards over a bookshelf. Harry took advantage of the confusion and grabbed Draco by the collar and raised his armed hand, causing the other boy to flinch and whimper - hands coming up as he cowered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dozens of heavy spellbooks came thundering down atop the two scuffling, there was a yell of “Get him dad!” From Fred or George, Mrs. Weasley shrieking “No, Arthur! No!” A strong hand grabbed Harry’s wrist and twisted it behind him, relieving him of the knuckles as he cried out in pain. Harry turned his head back to see Grant, grim faced pulling Harry back as Hagrid waded in through the sea of books. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ll talk about this later.” Grant seethed into his son’s ear while Hagrid pulled Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy apart. Mr. Weasley had a cut lip and Mr. Malfoy had been hit in the eye by an </span>
  <em>
    <span>Encyclopedia of Toadstools</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He was still holding Ginny’s old transfiguration book. Malfoy thrust it at her, eyes glittering with malice. Harry saw the pages had been turned in on itself, like something had been shoved into it during the fight.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Here, girl - take back your book - it’s the best your father can give you-” Harry tugged on his father’s grip, but it held firm. He had another Malfoy to add to his list.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The older Malfoy pulled himself from Hagrid’s grip and beckoned a red faced Draco and swept him from the shop.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you alright, Arthur?” Grant went over and asked him as Hagrid spoke on not rising to Malfoy’s taunts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I- yes. Thank you.” Mr. Weasley rubbed a sore spot on his head, pulling out his wand, tapping it to his lip and whispering a quiet ‘Episkey!’ that sealed the cut.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you don’t mind, I need to go have a word with my son.” Grant said to him, turning and saying the same to the Grangers. Petunia looked like her heart had broken, hands steepled atop her nose.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His father almost dragged him out of the shop while the staff hurriedly scampered around trying to right the fallen things with magic and Lockhart spoke excitedly with the reporters about working the fight into the report.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Around the corner from the shop, Grant put a hand on Harry's shoulder, kneeling down at eye level with him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What you did was wrong. There was no reason to fight those two. You threatened a little boy your age with a dangerous weapon. One that’s illegal on the other side of that brick wall, do you understand me, son?” His eyes seemed so much older than Harry remembered last, dark but deeply piercing. Harry couldn’t stand to meet his gaze.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, dad.” He replied, looking at the cobblestone beneath their feet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Look at me, Harry.” Grant shook him gently, “Where did you get this?” He indicated the brass knuckles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I… I found it in a mirror. It was magic, dad. It’s kind of complicated. I’m allowed to have this stuff at school - everyone has a wand that they can turn people into goats and all kinds of crazy stuff. This is the least dangerous thing anyone has at school.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grant’s eyes narrowed, “Well, I’m keeping it. I might get rid of it. I might not, but I know you shouldn’t have it. Do you understand, Harry? We’ve talked about this before - unless someone is threatening someone’s well being actively, violence is not a proper response. Words are just words, no matter how hurtful they can be.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry looked at the ground again, his face flushing hot, “Yeah, dad.” Grant hugged him, “Just try to be good, okay Harry? I don’t know the laws for this magic stuff, but I know you know how to be good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Coming out of the alley, the two were waylaid by Arthur Weasley, looking no worse for wear, but his smile beaming toward Harry.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you so much, Harry,” Arthur began, extending his hand out to shake Harry’s. He took it and Mr. Weasley gave him the firmest handshake he had gotten in some time, pumping up and down vigorously before letting go. “Molly told me about what you did - and why they handed me a stack of Lockhart’s signed books after all that confusion. Really my boy, thank you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re welcome Mr. Weasley - serves him right for dragging me up there to make the front page.” The Hammer said with a congenial smirk.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How would you feel about joining us for dinner?” Mr. Weasley asked, looking up from Harry to Grant, where the real invitation lay.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t be opposed to it if Harry isn’t. How far out are you?” Grant replied, “That and I think it’d be good for us to have a chat with Tom and Fiona as well.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fantastic! I’m actually in Ottery St. Catchpole - out in Devon.” Mr. Weasley replied. Grant’s eyes grew wide.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s quite a ways out, Arthur, how long did it take to get here?” Arthur smacked himself on the forehead, “Oh, we came by Floo powder,” both the Masons tilted their heads to the right, a confused look on their faces, “Nevermind, nevermind, let’s all go talk together and see about getting dinner ‘round here. Though you and your wife must come out for a holiday dinner sometime. Molly’s quite proud of her puddings - always working on those.” He rubbed his stomach with a knowing wink.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Back around the corner, Mr. Weasley resumed a beleaguered stance as Mrs. Weasley laid into him about fighting in public in front of Gilderoy Lockhart and Tom Granger assured his wife it probably wasn’t a common occurrence, which did not very much to calm her shaking.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hermione gave Harry yet another dagger filled glare and began to lecture him in a way that only she could - her tone and volume even giving Molly long enough of a pause for Grant and Arthur to bring up the idea of a joint family dinner at the Leaky Cauldron since the muggle couples would be unable to Floo with them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Everyone accepted the suggestion gratefully and all walked back to the Leaky Cauldron together. During dinner, it was Grant’s turn to be a detective. He started laying into Arthur with questions about the magical world before the bread and butter had arrived. Hermione seemed to be intrigued by the line of questioning that Grant was on, paying rapt attention to him while occasionally glancing back at Harry like a certain set of gears were turning in her mind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By the end of the dinner, the altercation from earlier was all but forgotten as spirits were mended and Fred and George showed off some of their new prank devices from the day’s purchases at Gambol and Japes. On their way out of the restaurant, Harry heard his father lean over to Tom and say, “You know, I think I quite like that Arthur fellow.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The morning of September first came too soon for the Hammer - he had been looking forward to a case that would test his mettle as a detective and define his summer, but no such thing arrived. Instead, classes came and went, allowing him a precious handful of weeks to be himself. Hermione, on the other hand, continued to study and kept Harry abreast of new and interesting facts that she had learned and the vagaries of Hercule Poirot and Miss Marple. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Masons and the Grangers arrived early to the area near the station, breakfasting in a local cafe to continue the tradition of sending their children off to school for the year. After pausing to get a few pictures with a disposable camera outside the station, they went inside.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Look, it’s Neville and his Nan!” Hermione tugged on Harry's sleeve as their families were walking into the station at a quarter till ten, planning on chatting until it was necessary for the children to cross over to the magical side of the platform.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They waved to them, catching their attention.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hermione! Hammer! It’s great to see you two!” He caught the two in a hug as the children began to talk at a mile a minute whilst the adults exchanged their own greetings.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hammer, Hermione told me what happened to your letters over summer, that’s wild!” he began, “Too bad you didn’t get a chance to visit, though she left out why it was that your letters were being stolen.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry looked up at his parents to make sure that they were properly distracted talking to Augusta Longbottom, lowering his voice to confide with his friend, “The elf said my life was in danger, Nev. Said someone was setting a plan in motion at school to kill me.” Neville’s eyes grew wider and wider as the story went on, “So he says to me he’s trying to save my life but he couldn’t tell me from whom. I wish you had been there, Nev. You know more about all these magical household things than I do, I bet you could’ve figured it out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Neville blushed at the compliment, “If you couldn’t squeeze it out of him, Hammer, I don’t think I’d have any more success.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Typical,” Mrs. Longbottom cut in, the severity of her gaze directed at Neville even giving the Hammer pause. She eyed him like the stuffed vulture she wore on her head would eye a dying gazelle on the savannah. Neville looked down at his feet. It hadn’t been an easy summer for him, either.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry nudged Neville, “We’ll tell the Chief or somebody about it when we get to school, yeah?” Hermione nodded her head in agreement.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Making their way over to the pillar for platform 9 and 10, their group stopped a distance away from the wall that served as the entrance for 9 ¾. If their children hadn’t actively been standing in front of the area, the Grangers and Masons would have had an extremely difficult time maintaining their focus on the area - the nagging feeling that there was something else to do or that they had somehow left the gas on kept coming to mind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ladies first.” Harry extended a hand out to Hermione, inviting her to make a run for the wall. She pushed her cart ahead of her and ran headlong into the wall after saying goodbye to her parents. One moment she was about to make contact with the wall and the next she was gone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Go ahead, Hammer, I’m going to double check all of my stuff on the cart.” Neville encouraged his friend.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Petunia pulled Harry into a wordless hug, telling him that she loved him after a moment of quiet. “I’ll be back before you know it, mum. Just a few months til Christmas, right?” She kissed him on the forehead.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grant hugged his son and gave him the same look of understanding they had come to outside Flourish and Blotts. “Take care of yourself, son.” He told him before letting him go. Harry took hold of his trunk and trotted at the pillar at a light jog, feeling a certain lightness in his heart. Some time on the train with Neville and Hermione would let him think more about the case at hand - about the warning that Dobby had given him. One moment Harry was jogging at the wall, and the next he had slammed into it, bouncing off a very visible barrier with an audible thump.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Harry!” “Son!” His parents were on him in a flash, Petunia trying to check on him as Grant picked the broken half of his glasses off Harry’s face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hammer!” Neville looked up from his trunks at the noise, moving over to see what had happened to his friend.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What happened? What’s going on?” Harry asked, looking down at himself and realizing the world was blurry. Neville tapped his palm against the pillar, finding it a regular brick pillar rather than the entrance to the magical side of the platform.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Augusta tutted, taking the broken pieces of Harry’s glasses and casting a quick “reparo” when no one was looking followed by tapping Harry with her wand and speaking the familiar “episkey”. The Hammer accepted his glasses back from her and stood, waving his hand to space out the people around him, “Thanks, Mrs. Longbottom, but what was that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I suspect you might not be as great as people led me to believe.” She spoke with a haughty tone before immediately slamming into the solid pillar like everyone else, knocking her vulture hat off the top of her head and causing her to drop her garish red handbag.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why, I never!” She struck at the pillar with the palm of her hand, finding it similarly unyielding.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are we going to do!?” Neville asked, panicked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Calm down, Nev, we’ll figure it out.” The Hammer picked up the handle to his luggage, which had fallen sidelong. He looked to his mother and father before looking down, realizing that they would know even less about this situation than he did. Tom and Fiona were right out as well, unless he had hit the wall hard enough to knock his teeth loose.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s gotta be someone we can complain to.” Harry mused aloud.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good idea, boy. We’ll take this to the Ministry!” Augusta was incensed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s a ministry?” Tom asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course there’s a ministry. The Ministry of Magic. I’ll take the children there and they’ll surely know what to do about this or by golly I’ll run this up to the desk of the Minister of Magic himself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I don’t know about all that, but we can give you and Neville a ride there with us if you like.” Grant offered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Augusta complained the whole car ride about the ‘jarring muggle contraption’ and how it was ‘exactly the same size on the inside as she had expected on the outside.’ Harry had given his father an apologetic look and hoped that he would simply grin and bear it. Following her directions, they came to a halt in a strange part of town on a street corner near a single red phone booth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you sure this is it?” Petunia asked as they unloaded the trunks from their car.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course it is, why it’s right there in front of you.” Augusta pointed at the phone booth. Petunia looked at her as if she had just calmly explained that the daytime sky was meant to be a pleasant shade of mauve.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, in you go. You too, Neville. Stay out of trouble for the five minutes you’ll be in there without me.” Augusta ushered them into the phone booth. Inside, they were stacked precariously amongst their things, Neville in a position with his face shoved up against the outer glass while holding on to Trevor, his brown smooth sided toad, for dear life. The Hammer bent his wrist and knocked the handset off of the receiver, eliciting a faint dial tone from behind a trunk..</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is the visitor’s entrance, so do stop by the fountain and don’t wander too far!” She recited a series of numbers and Harry did his best to type along. After the first ring on the loose handset, he felt a gut tugging, falling feeling as he was plunged into darkness. After a long while in the dark, the journey reminded him of the trap door and three headed dog from the year prior.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As suddenly as the falling had begun, it eased into a stop as they emerged into a grand, dark, marbled atrium somewhere that definitely no longer felt like London. The phonebooth descended to the floor of a great hallway flanked on either side by a plethora of magical fireplaces - throngs of people emerging from them in no particular rhythm and announced only by a great whooshing noise. When the booth touched the ground, the door slid open and spat them out with all of their things as people walked around them to avoid the mess they were making - giving them looks like they were being more bothersome than sympathetic.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, children! Here, let me help you boys.” Harry heard a familiar voice as he helped Neville wrangle all of his miscellany back together so he could take it with him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, thank you Mr. Weasley.” Harry looked up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Harry! Just Arthur is fine! How are you?” he clapped the boy on the back in greeting before finishing helping with the bags. “Who’re you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Neville, sir. Neville Longbottom.” He introduced himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fantastic! I know your grandmother,” Arthur struggled a second behind his smile, “She’s quite a woman of standards. Though not without her reasons.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once they had all of their things under control, Arthur asked, “So what brings you two here today? I would assume you’d be on the Hogwarts Express by now - I just dropped off all my children and headed into work.” They walked with the flow of the crowd toward an enormous statue at the far end of the atrium. It was a giant marble thing depicting one of each major magical race in Magical Britain coming together in an epic, fantastical pose of cooperation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ll go ahead and get you two some visitor’s passes since you’re here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, we were having some issues getting to Platform 9 ¾ so Augusta told us to come in and complain. Maybe run it all the way up to the minister of magic if no one was willing to help.” Harry replied. Mr. Weasley paled, “Well, it certainly isn’t a problem. There’s plenty of muggleborn first years who don’t know how to get onto 9 ¾. The ministry usually has roving guides that come by occasionally to escort them here. We usually just send them off by Floo to Hogsmeade.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That sounds pretty reasonable.” Harry nodded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The security guard sitting at the visitor’s center jumped up and asked to shake Harry’s hand embarrassingly when Arthur announced who he was. With the new visitor’s tags pinned to their shirts, they waited until Augusta showed up. She thanked Arthur for his help, lacing the rest of the comment with complaints about how much of a waste of money the Ministry was if they couldn’t keep a single gateway functioning.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arthur nodded meekly and informed her that he would be taking the children over to the Hogwarts-late-arrivals floo now that they were checked in with security and that there would be no need to take anything any higher than it had already gone. With his sixth assurance that he would pass on the message to have a magical workman go examine the linking spell in King’s Cross and deliver the boys safely to school, Augusta Longbottom seemed satisfied. She said her goodbyes to Neville and a more curt one to the other two before turning round and walking back toward the direction of the fireplace filled atrium - cutting her way through the incoming crowd, the vulture bobbing its way along into the distance.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So which way is it to wherever those late arrival children are supposed to go?” Harry asked Mr. Weasley.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Being honest, it’s out that way. Fourth fireplace from the left,” he pointed out into the atrium in the direction Mrs. Longbottom had gone, “but I thought it’d be nice to wait for a little bit before we headed that way.” He gave a wink to Neville.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Next to the assigned fireplace, there was another ministry worker surrounded by a small crowd of wide-eyed ten and eleven year old children as well as their luggage. It was almost nostalgic for the Hammer to see their awe.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, Arthur, two more latecomers?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not quite, Nigel, they’ve just had a spot of trouble with the gate on the pillar to 9 ¾ I’m afraid. I’ll leave them in your capable care. Harry, Neville, this is Nigel Trent, he’ll get you where you need to go. I’ll have to go talk to someone in the magical transportation department now, before Augusta comes back.” He shook their hands and disappeared off into the distance.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right, since I’d daresay you two might be the last of what we’re likely to receive here, I’ll go ahead and start the instructions. This,” Nigel retrieved a small goblet full of what looked like ash or soot from a special holder mounted to the side of the fireplace, “is floo powder. We’ll use it to travel via the Floo network - it’s a magical system of connected fireplaces. All you need do is take a small handful of this and throw it at your feet whilst saying your destination. In this case, it’s Hogsmeade. Say it with me now, please.” He pointed at each of the children in turn, ensuring that they spoke the name carefully and clearly while also warning them not to say anything other than that specific name because they didn’t know where else was connected in the Floo network. It was more than possible to accidentally send yourself into a dangerous fireplace that was being used by demons or the French. Quite a few of the new children paled at the news and began practising ‘Hogsmeade’ under their breaths.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Now that everyone’s ready, would one of you two older students be willing to show us how it’s done? There’ll be a Hogwarts professor on the other side waiting to retrieve you all, so don’t worry!” Nigel did his best to sound reassuring.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry looked at Neville, who had looked at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well I didn’t even know how to use Floo powder til he told us.” Harry said. Neville’s eyes widened, “Oh! I forgot you don’t know about the basics of so much wizard stuff sometimes, Hammer.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Neville raised his hand and came forward with his cart full of his things, loading them into the fireplace before reaching out and taking a handful of the soot from the goblet. He stepped in amongst his luggage and tossed the handful at his feet whilst yelling “Hogsmeade!” and with a great whoosh of green fire he and his things were gone. The Hammer shrugged - that easy. He stepped up with his one rolling trunk and took a handful of the powder, stepping into the hearth as he had seen it, taking a look over to Nigel, who gave his best attempt at a winsome smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hogsmeade!” The Hammer said, tossing the dust to his feet. The feeling of falling came back in spades with the long dropping pull on his stomach twisting into an incredibly fast spin. The Hammer closed his eyes as the streaking of green fire started to make him ill, the feeling of hot and cold all around him alternating like hands slapping either side of his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before he knew it, he had come tumbling out the other side and into a rustic looking pub - or at least that’s what it looked like through the layer of soot and grime on his glasses.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, Bogart, up you go.” Another familiar voice spoke as a pair of hands lifted him up from under his armpits to the sound of jingling spurs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sundance.” Harry replied with a cough, taking his glasses off to see without the layer of soot.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>Professor</span>
  </em>
  <span> Sundance to you. Scourgify.” Professor Longbaugh cleaned Harry up with a quick wave of his wand, using his other hand to usher him away from the front area of the fireplace. Turning round, Harry saw the professor place his rolling luggage into a neat pile with Neville’s using levitation, turning back to watch the floo travelers come in. During the wait, Harry asked an idle question,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, Professor, what is it you Americans call Muggles? I’d figure it a British sort of word.” The fire shifted colour to a darker shade of green.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, some of us call them mundies - short for mundane - but there’s some regional differences. I’m from the midwest so it’s like that coke, pop, or soda kind of thing.” Longbaugh cut himself off as the next child came through the fireplace with an even rougher landing than Harry’s, his luggage skittering out around him along with a caged owl making a ruckus in the panic.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Professor went over and helped the new kid up, cleaning him the same way and escorting him out of the landing area. “Harry, Neville, give me a hand, would you? You can do magic now, it’s on me. Get the luggage out to the cart out front so we’re not just taking up all the room in Madam Rosmerta’s.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry brought out his wand and started to levitate the luggage out the door, finding he could only lift two, maybe three trunks at a time. Neville helped calm down the panicking owl while Professor Longbaugh asked the new kid to go sit down in a booth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A similar process repeated until all the children Harry had seen gathered around the ministry fireplace were huddled together, wide eyed and a few of them even being sick into buckets so graciously provided by the Three Broomsticks pub.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After getting a head count including Neville and Harry, the Professor addressed the little group,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello all, I know your introduction to the magical world and Hogwarts has been a little bit rough, but welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry - I’m Professor Longbaugh, an American exchange teacher who’ll be getting you up to the castle grounds proper. Your luggage has already been loaded into a cart and will be distributed to your new rooms accordingly. However, before we can make our way up to the castle grounds, we’ll have to take you down to walk the Hogwarts Express train that you all missed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What for?” Harry asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“From what I’m told it’s some British tradition. From whatever agreement they made to unite the isles, it states that all Hogwarts students have to ride the Express to school, regardless of where they live within the nation. To keep true to that, you all have to get on the train, walk up the cars, and get out.” The Professor explained.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That sounds more than a little dumb.” Harry made a face to accompany the statement.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t look at me, kid. I didn’t make the rules.” Longbaugh replied, putting on his cowboy hat, “Here, Harry, go outside while I clean up everything and thank Madam Rosmerta. Make sure no one wanders off.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry and Neville led the way outside, the small gaggle of schoolchildren filing out behind them still dressed in their regular clothes, most of them unsure of where to look first in the unfamiliar magical village.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do all the wizards and witches dress like you and the professor?” One of the new children asked the Hammer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What? Oh, no. I think most everyone except the regular professors dresses a little less… outlandishly? Ask Nev, he’d know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All eyes turned to Neville, who began to stutter out half-concentrated observations about everything in his life in magical Britain, the relief on his face palpable when Professor Longbaugh reappeared through the door of the Three Broomsticks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So that way leads up to the castle by the quickest route.” Longbaugh pointed up the road in one direction, tapping the side of their luggage cart with his hand and sending it following the path, a squeaky wheel sounding out its cadence. “We, however, have to go this way. Neville, Harry, bring up the rear. Feel free to light up your wands so it’s easier to see once we’re out of town.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They followed the professor through the darkening twilight, the rhythmic jingling of his spurs setting a comforting pace with the light coming from Harry and Neville’s wands giving just enough illumination for the children between them to not trip or fall behind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By the time they reached Hogsmeade station, it was already night and the train looked like it had been deserted for quite some time. Hagrid had probably wrangled the first years who made it on schedule and gotten them down to the boats. Harry wondered where the older years had gone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Listen, by the time we all make it up to the castle, the welcoming feast will almost be over, but don’t let that make you feel like you don’t belong.” The Professor addressed them outside the caboose, “You all are witches and wizards who have chosen or been chosen to attend this school. They’ll sort you all the same in the Great Hall and I’m sure a late dinner will be provided. If not, ask for me and I’ll see who I have to talk to so I can make it happen.” He lit up his wand to look at all the different faces in the crowd.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Now then, all of you will walk up these stairs, walk through the train cars, and out the front over there.” he pointed, “Harry, you’re first, Neville you’ll be at the end. Everyone else, single file behind Harry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer pouted a brief moment before doing as he was told - it felt like a stupid tradition that only served to waste time. He did it all the same and came out at the front of the train, relighting his wand under the glow of a lamp just to give the children behind him somewhere to gather. Neville finally appeared and the lost students gathered around them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, Harry, Neville, this is where we part ways for a little bit. I have to take the first years down to the boats. You two can ride the carriages up to the castle. It’s quite a bit faster. Just go through that gate over yonder and there should be another carriage like the one for the luggage. There might be a professor there waiting for you, there might not, but I can trust you two not to go wandering off into the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Forbidden</span>
  </em>
  <span> forest, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Neville nodded, Harry sighed. “Yeah, Professor. I just want to get to the food at this point.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They eventually found the lone carriage waiting for them exactly where Longbaugh had promised it would be. The ride up to the castle was uneventful, cracking wise with Neville and talking nonsense until they reached the area just outside the main entrance hall. Professor McGonagall was already outside waiting for them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mr. Mason, Mr. Longbottom. Better late than never, I see.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are we in trouble?” Neville asked, blanched at the idea.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course not, Ms. Granger had already seen fit to tell me about the trouble you two had at King’s Cross being unable to get to the platform. I am most certainly glad you abided by the suggested route rather than doing something insane to assure your presence at school.” She told them, her resting face breaking into a warmer smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry we missed the big feast and the rest of the sorting.” Harry said, “Any notable new faces?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“None that would pique your interest, Mr. Mason. We’ll wait here until the other late arrivals and Professor Longbaugh come in. There will be a small sorting ceremony for them and then a second dinner with the Prefects so as to welcome them to their houses.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Before that happens, Professor, I have to tell you about the Platform. I got told over summer by a house elf that someone was planning something bad this year. Someone wants to kill me. I gotta tell the Chief.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>McGonagall looked at the Hammer, her expression sceptical.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I highly doubt anyone would have the ability or brazenness to make an attempt on your life here on school grounds, Mr. Mason.” She replied, “But, I’ll make mention of it to the headmaster.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I hope so.” Harry put his hands in his pockets and turned around to look at the path up from the docks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The rest of their group arrived a short while later, Professor Longbaugh trudging up behind the gaggle of children with muddy spurs. He cleaned them off with magic before they all headed inside.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Great Hall was outfitted differently than it was for the regular welcoming feast: the four great house tables were gone, replaced with a single one in a T shape meant to emulate the normal setup but reduced in scale. On either side of the room, there were large curtained booths big enough for individuals to change in and allow their privacy. Off to the side, their luggage had been laid out, and Harry went over to his.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you all will change into your student robes - we’ll begin the sorting ceremony soon. Boys are on this side and girls are on the other.” Professor McGonagall gestured at the respective areas in turn.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After changing, Harry and Neville came back and sat down, the differing blue and gold trim with matching house badges setting them apart from their neophyte cohorts. They sat down opposite each other at the grand table while the rest of the students stood shuffling awkwardly in a group, unsure of where to go. Soon, Professor Dumbledore arrived, waving his wand to bring his eagle adorned lectern closer to the table, the sorting hat held in his other hand, looking frumpy as ever. Professor McGonagall summoned the stool she normally used for the ceremony and gave them a condensed version of her welcoming speech and the history of the four houses, allowing the Hat to do its song and dance.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Before we begin the ceremony, your house Prefects will be joining us.” On her cue, the main entrance to the Great Hall opened and the 4 pairs of prefects and the head boy and girl strode into the room with one extra blue trimmed student with bushy hair trotting in behind them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hermione!” Neville and Harry called out in unison, standing up to say hello to her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She almost fought me to come down and make sure they were OK.” Penelope Clearwater, the blonde Ravenclaw girl’s prefect said apologetically to the headmaster.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dumbledore chuckled amicably, “I’m sure it will be just fine. Please, do join us in welcoming more of your new classmates, Ms. Granger.” He gestured to the available seats with a twinkle in his eye. There had already been enough seats laid out to accommodate her in their late dinner. Once the student leadership and Hermione had found their seats, the ceremony began, the hall resounding with their cheers and clapping, everyone applauding each newly sorted student as if they were their own. Neville managed to shout himself hoarse, trying to make everyone feel as welcome as they could be. Soon enough, the food materialized and everyone dug in - those who had already eaten helped themselves to a cup of tea or coffee and light snacks, chatting whilst the others gorged themselves.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So what happened at the platform, Harry?” Hermione broached the question quietly next to him. Harry, in his excitement to answer, almost choked on his own food. She patted him on the back while making a face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The pillar just wouldn’t let us in,” Neville answered for him, “it was the weirdest thing! Even my Nan couldn’t get in.” Harry nodded, still red in the face - his prefect, Robert Hilliard looking on with a worried expression.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think-” Harry took a large swig of water to wash it all down, “I think it’s,” he took a quick look back at Robert before dropping his voice “- a case.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh no, no more of that nonsense this year, Harry.” Robert had heard him regardless, “We’re going to have a nice quiet year full of earnest learning and self improvement. Isn’t that right, Penelope?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I should hope so.” She replied.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Meet anyone interesting on the train?” Harry changed the subject.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I spent the ride with Ginny. Fred and George’s sister? She got sorted into Gryffindor with them.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh yeah, I remember her from the bookshop.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She actually made another friend, her name is Luna, and she got sorted into our house earlier.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, that’s nice. What do you make of her?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She’s… odd. She spent some of the ride wearing these ridiculous glasses searching for crumple horned something or others and giving people copies of </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Quibbler</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Some magazine her father produces, apparently. I feel like I’d trust it as much as reading the headlines from The Daily Mirror about Nessie.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry nodded and resumed eating - the chicken was too good to not devote his full attention to it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With the meal concluded, the puddings materialized in front of them - enormous chalices filled with ice cream sundaes decked out in all manner of toppings. Even those who had eaten earlier in the night opted to make headway into the frozen treat. With the end of the meal came a few start of term notices - decidedly absent this year were any forbidden areas within the castle grounds not already marked nor named obvious things such as the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Forbidden</span>
  </em>
  <span> Forest. It seemed to the Hammer that Dumbledore might’ve learnt his lesson about playing coy and trying to lure out his enemies while using Harry as bait.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uhm, excuse me,” one of the first years tapped on Harry’s upper arm, “If that’s Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom, are you - are you Harry Potter?” The newly minted Slytherin tripped over his own words.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Potter-Mason, actually. You can call me the Hammer.” Harry shook the boy’s hand. The first year flushed while saying how nice it was to meet him. It seemed like his celebrity still hadn’t died down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The three made their way to their dormitories behind their prefects, parting ways as the Hufflepuff student leaders led Neville and his new housemates away to the mystery that was the Hufflepuff common room. Up in Ravenclaw tower, Robert and Penelope taught the handful of new students the gimmick behind the eagle guarding the door before welcoming them in. Most of the new students had already retreated to their dormitories and were reading books from the shelves in the common room - they had been picked clean and laid mostly bare.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Opposite the entrance, Harry saw the ghost of Helena Ravenclaw talking to a little blonde girl he didn’t recognize. The spectral vision of a woman looked up from her conversation and gave him a Mona Lisa smile before pointing directly at him for the blonde’s benefit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh oh, that’s Luna.” Hermione spoke quietly into his ear as the new girl smiled and made her way over.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you the Hammer that’s meant to shatter the heavens?” She asked him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I- I guess so. Harry Potter-Mason otherwise. The last time I heard that, it was from a centaur. What’s your name?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m Luna. Luna Lovegood. It’s nice to meet you Harry ‘The Hammer’ Potter-Mason.” She replied with her lopsided smile again, “Oh, hello Hermione.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So what can I do for you?” He asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My friend Ginny Weasley and now the Grey Lady said you might be able to help me find some things.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh! You wanted my help on a case!” Harry exclaimed, quieting down immediately because he had interrupted Robert giving the late first years their welcoming briefing. He dropped his voice and resumed, “Come up to my office later and we can talk.” Despite quieting down, Robert still hadn’t taken his eyes off him. Harry opted to head up to his room instead.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Through a door marked “Second Years”, Harry found a hallway with a few doors in it - one of them had his name and Michael Corner’s on a plaque to its right. Inside, Michael had already unpacked his things and was hanging up a poster for the Chelsea FC.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Michael, how’s it?” Harry greeted him as he slung his hat up onto the corner of his nightstand. His new roommate turned and greeted him, a broad smile growing on his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re the Hammer! I’m a big fan!” He shook Harry’s hand with gusto. Harry had remembered talking to him maybe twice last year, and once was to give him a spare piece of parchment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Er, yep. Nice to see someone knows.” It was going to be a long year.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Breakfast the next day was a subdued affair - Harry came down to the hall and found Hermione already reading her copy of <em> Voyages with Vampires </em> propped open against a milk jug. She greeted him with a distracted “Morning”, her eyes still scanning the pages like she was studying a sacred text. Though, for her, every book might as well have been - Harry had never seen her write a single note in her margins or dog ear a single page. A moment later, Neville came down, greeting Harry with a pat on the back and producing a folded sheet of parchment which he handed to Hermione.</p><p>“What’s that?” Harry asked.</p><p>“Oh, Hermione sent me some copies of the weird little shorthand language you two were studying over summer holiday. I think I’ve got it mostly down.”</p><p>She unfolded it on the table between her and the Hammer, allowing them to read it while Neville took his seat.</p><p>“This is pretty good, Neville. Though you seem like you tend to confuse this and this.” She turned it around and pointed her finger at a set of similar looking curlicues.</p><p>“Ah, yeah. I suppose I’ll have to review it some more when we have time.” he ate a spoonful of porridge, “Nan wasn’t quite convinced that I wasn’t learning Dark magic when she saw all the practise sheets that I was writing during summer.” He said with a wry smile.</p><p>Shortly after, their conversation was interrupted when a lumpy grey package fell on Neville’s head, marking the arrival of the morning post. Some time near the end of the meal, Professor Flitwick came by the table, saying hello to each of his charges and handing out their new timetables for the year. The Hammer groaned at reading the schedule - they had double Herbology with the Slytherins first.</p><p>Harry, Neville, and Hermione left the hall together, splitting off when Neville said he needed to head in a separate direction to make it to History of Magic.</p><p>Nearing the greenhouses, they saw the rest of the class already gathering around waiting for Professor Sprout. From the larger grounds, she came striding into view from across the lawn, accompanied by Gilderoy Lockhart. Professor Sprout was walking in a pace and stance that could have summoned a rain cloud above her - an odd thing compared to what the Hammer had seen of her before.</p><p>Professor Sprout was a squat little witch who wore a patched hat over her flyaway hair; there was usually a large amount of earth on her clothes, and her fingernails would’ve made Harry’s mum scream. Gildeory Lockhart, on the other hand, was immaculate in sweeping robes of turquoise, his golden hair shining under a perfectly positioned turquoise hat with gold trim. It made Harry a little queasy to look at him.</p><p>“Oh, hello there!” Lockhart called, beaming around at the assembled students, “just been showing Professor Sprout the best way to make her rounds with the more dangerous flora! But I don’t want you running away with the idea that I’m better at Herbology than she is! I just happen to have met several exotic plants on my travels…”</p><p>“Greenhouse Three today, chaps!” Professor Sprout announced, who was looking distinctly disgruntled, not at all her usual cheerful self. A general murmur of interest came up amongst the students. They had only ever worked in Greenhouse One before - Number Three housed far more dangerous and interesting plants. Professor Sprout took a large key from her belt and unlocked the door. The smell of damp earth, fertilizer and the musky scent of a tropical looking plant with some giant, umbrella-sized flowers dangling from the ceiling. The Hammer tugged down his hat and tried to walk inside with Hermione when Professor Lockhart’s hand shot out and grasped onto his shoulder.</p><p>“Harry! I’ve been wanting a word - you don’t mind if he’s a couple of minutes late do you, Professor Sprout?” Harry looked at her pleadingly with an expression that read “I MIND! I MIND!”</p><p>Judging by Professor Sprout’s scowl, she thought the same, but Lockhart said, “That’s the ticket,” and closed the greenhouse door in her face.</p><p>“Harry,” Lockhart said, his large white teeth gleaming in the sunlight as he shook his head, “Harry, Harry, Harry.”</p><p>The Hammer didn’t dignify any of it with a response, only doing his best to contain himself to a glare.</p><p>“When I heard - well, of course, it was all my fault. Could have kicked myself.”</p><p>The Hammer was running through all the possible scenarios that he had done something Lockhart related between the bookshop and now - that or if he’d have to bury Lockhart out behind one of the greenhouses and make it look like an accident before the day was done.</p><p>“Don’t know when I’ve been more shocked. Separating yourself and breaking the magic bridge to Platform 9 ¾. Well of course, I knew at once why you’d done it. Stood out a mile. Harry, Harry, <em> Harry </em>.”</p><p>It was remarkable how much of a toothy idiot he was, showing every single one of his perfect teeth even when he wasn’t talking and even when he was talking, none of his words actually <em> meant </em> anything.</p><p>“I thought you knew how to play the game, Harry. You made all that publicity to the front page of the paper with me and you just couldn’t wait to do it again, could you?”</p><p>“What? No, you-”</p><p>“Harry, Harry, Harry,” Lockhart reaffirmed his grip on Harry’s shoulder, “I <em> understand </em> . Natural to want a bit more once you’ve had that first real taste - and I blame myself for giving you that, because it was bound to go to your head - but see here young man, magical vandalism is no way to get yourself noticed.  I do appreciate that you’ve already begun establishing your brand with that quaint little hat, but just calm down all right? Plenty of time for all that when you’re older. Yes, yes, I know what you’re thinking! ‘It’s all right for him, he’s an internationally famous wizard already!’ But when I was twelve I was just as much of a nobody as you are now. In fact as a fellow Ravenclaw I’d say I was even more of a nobody! I mean, a few people have heard of you, haven’t they? All that business with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!” He glanced at the spot below the brim of Harry’s hat where the scar peeked out, “I know, I know it’s not quite as good as winning <em> Witch Weekly </em> ’s Most-Charming-Smile Award five times in a row, as I have - but it’s a <em> start </em> , Harry, it’s a <em> start </em>.”</p><p>He gave Harry a hearty wink and strode off, opulent in the morning light. It made the Hammer a little queasy to find out that he was a Ravenclaw before remembering he was meant to be inside the Greenhouse.</p><p>Professor Sprout was already standing behind a trestle bench in the centre of the greenhouse. About twenty pairs of different-coloured earmuffs were lying on the bench before her. Harry slid in next to Hermione and the Professor announced, “We’ll be re-potting the Mandrakes today. Now who can tell me the properties of the Mandrake?”</p><p>To no one’s surprise, Hermione had beaten them all to putting her hand in the air.</p><p>“Mandrake, or Mandragora, is a powerful restorative,” said Hermione, reciting the book from memory, “It is used to return people who have been transfigured or cursed to their original state.”</p><p>“Excellent, ten points to Ravenclaw.” said Professor Sprout - across the room Malfoy silently mocked Hermione to his cluster of friends but stopped when he noticed the Hammer staring him down before the Professor continued, “The Mandrake forms an essential part of most antidotes. It is also, however, dangerous. Who can tell me why?”</p><p>The Hammer’s hand was up this time, but Hermione had shot her hand up first, narrowly missing the edge of Harry’s hat.</p><p>“The cry of the Mandrake is fatal to anyone who hears it.” she said promptly.</p><p>“Precisely, take another ten points.” Professor Sprout said, “Now the Mandrakes we have are still very young.”</p><p>She pointed to a row of deep trays as she spoke and everyone shuffled forward for a better look. A hundred or so tufty little plants, purplish green in colour, were growing there in rows. They looked quite unremarkable from the outside - but from the diagram in the textbook they had a strange, uncanny valley humanoid form beneath the surface.</p><p>“Everyone take a pair of earmuffs,” The Professor instructed. There was a general scramble as most everyone tried to seize a pair that wasn’t pink and fluffy. The Hammer took his time taking his own hat off and putting it into the mokeskin pouch on his belt.</p><p>“When I tell you to put them on, make sure your ears are <em> completely </em> covered.” She continued, “When it is safe to remove them, I will give you the thumbs up. Right - earmuffs <em> on </em>.”</p><p>Harry snapped the pink, fluffy pair he ended up with over his ears. They shut out sound completely. Professor Sprout put a matching pink, fluffy pair over her own ears, rolled up the sleeves of her robes, grasped one of the tufty plants firmly and pulled hard.</p><p>Harry inhaled a breath in surprise that echoed in his own ears with the sound of blood pumping. The roots of the magical mandrake looked like a small, muddy, and extremely ugly baby whose primary function was wailing. The leaves were growing right out of its head in a shade that matched the pale green, mottled skin.</p><p>Professor Sprout took a larger plant pot from under the table and shoved the Mandrake into it, burying him in dark, damp compost until only the tufted leaves were visible. The Professor dusted off her hands, gave them all the thumbs up and removed her own earmuffs.</p><p>“As our Mandrakes are only seedlings, their cries won’t kill you outright yet,” she said calmly, as though she’d done nothing more exciting than trim a bonsai tree, “however, they will knock you out for several hours, and as I’m sure none of you want to miss your first day back, make sure your earmuffs are securely in place while you work. I will attract your attention when it is time to pack up.</p><p>“Four to a tray - there is a large supply of pots here - compost in the sacks over there - and be careful of the Venomous Tentacula, it’s teething.”</p><p>She gave a sharp slap to a spiky, dark red plant as she spoke, making it draw in the long feelers that had been inching sneakily over her shoulder.</p><p>Harry and Hermione were joined at their tray by two Slyterins they had never met before, introducing themselves as Daphne Greengrass and Theodore Knott.</p><p>“So you’re the famous Harry Potter.” Theodore said as he shook Harry’s hand.</p><p>“Potter-Mason, actually. Call me the Hammer.” It was getting kind of old - Harry figured his nickname would carry forward with his reputation.</p><p>“And you’re Hermione Granger.” Theodore paused for a moment, his hand withdrawn before extending it and shaking Hermione’s after the moment of hesitation.</p><p>“Is there something wrong?” Hermione asked him.</p><p>“Oh, no, I just think I just realised my parents might’ve been wrong about a few things is all.” He said with a smile, “Right, Daphne?”</p><p>Greengrass nodded, shaking the two Ravenclaws hands. Over their shoulders, Harry caught Malfoy grimacing like he was witnessing a grave betrayal.</p><p>Harry didn’t have much time to ask for clarification - they had filled their pots with the dragon-dung compost and were ready to begin the transplant so they donned their ear muffs once more. Professor Sprout had made the task look swift and easy, but for the students it proved about as challenging as trying to lift a cat up by its tail. The root babies squirmed, kicked, and flailed their sharp little fists and gnashed their teeth, making it difficult to draw them out of their earth as well as trying to settle them down into the new pots. Harry considered punching one in its’ squashed little face but realized he didn’t have his brass knuckles any longer to make it easier.</p><p>By the end of class, everyone was sweaty, aching, and covered in earth. Professor Sprout sent them off back to the castle for a quick wash before their next class. Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall was always challenging, but welcoming work. The Hammer found the assignment fairly difficult, but the results of turning one thing into another was something he had come to enjoy.</p><p>The assignment for the day was to turn beetles into buttons - something some of the others in class had a maximal amount of trouble with. By the end of class, Harry had managed to get his down to a round, flat something with translucent wings, but Hermione had transformed a small handful into an array of perfect coat buttons.</p><p>The Hammer was glad for the lunch bell - his brain felt like it was beginning to smoke. There was something he was working on putting together, but he couldn’t quite place his finger on what the idea was. Sitting down next to Hermione, he found her examining the handful of coat buttons she had transfigured for imperfections.</p><p>“What is it we’ve got this afternoon, Angel?” He asked her, tilting her timetable toward him to look. All of Lockhart’s lessons had been outlined in little hearts.</p><p>“Well, that’s-” She snatched it away from him, flushing cherry red. Harry pulled his hat down and focused on his lunch. Just something else to think about. He hated it.</p><p>After finishing their lunch, he, Hermione, and Neville went outside to the overcast courtyard. Hermione sat down on one of the benches and was back to reading <em> Voyages with Vampires </em> again while Harry and Neville spoke about Muggle and magical things. The Hammer caught a small, mousey-haired boy who had been one of the late arrivals staring at him. The boy was clutching what looked like an ordinary film camera, and the moment Harry made eye contact with him he turned bright red.</p><p>“H-hello, Harry? I’m-I’m Colin Creevey,” he said like he was drowning on air, taking a small step forward, “I’m in Gryffindor. D’you think - would it be all right if - can I have a picture?” he said, raising the camera hopefully.</p><p>Harry looked quickly to Neville and back to Colin, “A picture? With me? Why?”</p><p>“So I can prove I’ve met you,” Colin said eagerly, creeping further forward, “I know all about you. Everyone’s told me. About how you survived when You-Know-Who tried to kill you and how he disappeared and everything and how you’ve still got a lightning scar on your forehead.” His eyes darted up to Harry’s hairline, but Harry tugged down on the brim of his hat, “And a boy in my dormitory said if I develop the film in the right potion, the pictures’ll <em> move </em>.”</p><p>Colin drew in his first breath since the start of the conversation, giving the Hammer time to interject, “The only thing you know about me are rumours and hearsay, kid.”</p><p>“But it’s a <em> brilliant </em> kind isn’t it? My dad’s a milkman, and he couldn’t believe it when I got my letter from Hogwarts. This whole magic thing. I’m taking loads of pictures to send home to him. And it’d be really good if I had one of you -” he looked pleadingly to Harry and Neville - “Maybe your friend could take it and I could stand next to you? And then, you could sign it?”</p><p>“<em> Signed photos </em> ? You’re giving out <em> signed photos </em>, Potter?” Malfoy joined in without an invitation, his voice echoing around the courtyard. He stepped right behind Colin, flanked by his two lackeys Crabbe and Goyle.</p><p>“Everyone queue up!” Malfoy roared to the crowd, Crabbe and Goyle stepping between him and the Hammer, “Harry Potter’s giving out signed photos!”</p><p>“Shut your lying mouth!” The Hammer reached his hand over his belt pouch again but felt only disappointment when he clenched his empty fist.</p><p>“You’re just jealous!” Colin piped up - his squeaky voice only serving to highlight that he was smaller than Crabbe’s neck.</p><p>“<em> Jealous </em>?” said Malfoy, who wasn’t shouting anymore; half the courtyard was listening in. “Of what? I don’t want a foul scar right across my head, thanks. I don’t think getting your head cut open makes you that special, myself.” </p><p>Crabbe and Goyle sniggered. The scar on Harry’s head burned in recognition. Bogart had a scar on his lip; scars proved you had done something. The Hammer wanted to make that idiot bleed again.</p><p>“Stop hiding behind your two mooks and tell me that to my face, Malfoy. Or do you need to run home to Lucy and tell him all your problems so you can have daddy solve them for you? I broke your face once, I’ll do it again. I’ll do it as many damn times as I need to teach you the lesson.”</p><p>A knot of older year Gryffindors perked up at the idea. Another group of Slytherins had already reached their hands into their robes. Neville had put his hand into his robes as well. The resounding thud of Hermione closing her copy of <em> Voyages with Vampires </em> halted everyone in their tracks as she whispered, “Look out!” Harry noticed she had done it one handed, her wand lying next to her thigh.</p><p>“What’s all this, what’s all this?” Gilderoy Lockhart was striding toward them, his turquoise robes swirling behind him. “Who’s giving out signed photos?”</p><p>Before Harry could crack wise, Lockhart flung an arm around his shoulders and thundered, “Shouldn’t have asked! We meet again, Harry!”</p><p>Pinned to Lockhart’s side and burning with unspent rage, Harry brought up two fingers to his eyes and pointed at Malfoy beyond his two thugs to tell him that the Hammer was watching him. The latter boy narrowed his eyes before sliding away into the crowd.</p><p>“Come on then, Mr. Creevey,” said Lockhart, absolutely beaming at Colin, “A double portrait, can’t say fairer than that, and we’ll <em> both </em> sign it for you.”</p><p>Colin fumbled for his camera and took the picture as the bell rang behind them, signalling the start of afternoon classes.</p><p>“Off you go, move along there.” Lockhart dispersed the crowd before setting back off to the castle with Harry in tow, his hand still clamped onto the Hammer’s shoulder. Harry glared at the professor from under the brim of his hat.</p><p>“A word to the wise, Harry.” Lockhart said paternally as they entered the building through a side door, “I covered up for you back there with young Creevey - if he was photographing me too, your school fellows won’t think you’re setting yourself up so much…”</p><p>Despite his best efforts to interject or shrug off his grip, Lockhart ignored Harry and swept him down a corridor lined with staring students and up a staircase.</p><p>“Let me just say that handing out signed pictures at this stage of your career isn’t sensible - looks a tad bigheaded, Harry, to be frank. There may well come a time when, like me, you’ll need to keep a stack handy wherever you go, but -” he gave a stuck up little chortle, “I don’t think you’re quite there yet.”</p><p>Harry couldn’t wait to not be twelve anymore so anything he did to Lockhart would be man to man rather than a tantrum from a child. They reached Lockhart’s classroom and he let Harry go at last. The Hammer straightened his robes and beelined for a seat in the far back of the class.</p><p>The rest of the students came clattering in and Hermione and Neville sat down on either side of him - the latter looking mortified at what had just happened.</p><p>“I’m sorry I wasn’t more help with Malfoy, Hammer.”</p><p>“Don’t worry about it, Nev. Some people are just going to be some people. Including Professor Narcissus up there.” Lockhart had redecorated the DADA classroom with the various portraits and publicity photos of himself. All of them had that vapid, glowing smile.</p><p>“Well I don’t think it’s so bad.” Hermione said with an uncharacteristic sigh.</p><p>When the class was seated, Lockhart cleared his throat loudly and silence fell. He reached forward and picked up Terry Boot’s copy of <em> Travel with Trolls </em> and held it up to show his own winking portrait on the front.</p><p>“Me,” he said, pointing at it and winking as well, “Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League and five times winner of <em> Witch Weekly </em> ’s Most-Charming-Smile Award - but I don’t talk about that. I didn’t get rid of the Bandon Banshee by <em> smiling </em> at her!”</p><p>He waited for them to laugh; a few people gave a strained smile.</p><p>“I see you’ve all bought a complete set of my books - well done. I thought we’d start today with a little quiz. Nothing to worry about - just to check how well you’ve read them, how much you’ve taken in…”</p><p>When he had handed out the test papers he returned to the front of the class and said, “You have thirty minutes, start - <em> now </em>!”</p><p>The Hammer looked down at the parchment and read:</p><ol>
<li>What is Gilderoy Lockhart’s favorite colour?</li>
<li>What is Gilderoy Lockhart’s secret ambition?</li>
<li>What, in your opinion, is Gilderoy Lockhart’s greatest achievement to date?</li>
</ol><p> </p><p>On and on it went, over three full sides of parchment, right down to:</p><ol>
<li>When is Gilderoy Lockhart’s birthday, and what would his ideal gift be?</li>
</ol><p>Half an hour later, Lockhart collected the papers and rifled through them in front of the class.</p><p>“Tut, tut - hardly any of you remembered that my favourite colour is lilac. I say so in <em> Year with a Yeti </em> . And a few of you need to read <em> Wanderings with Werewolves </em> more carefully - I clearly state in chapter twelve that my ideal birthday gift would be harmony between all magic and non-magic peoples - though I wouldn’t say no to a large bottle of Ogden’s Old Firewhisky!” The Hammer could go for two fingers of whisky on the rocks. He didn’t know what it’d taste like but Bogart seemed to like it when life was getting tough.</p><p>Lockhart gave them another roguish wink. Neville was staring at him in open mouthed disbelief; Terry Boot and Michael Corner were doing their best to contain silent laughter. It bothered Hammer most that Hermione was sitting and listening to the buffoon with rapt attention, giving a start when he mentioned her by name.</p><p>“... but Miss Hermione Granger knew my secret ambition is to rid the world of evil and market my own range of hair care potions - good girl! In fact -” he flipped her paper over, “Full marks! Where is Miss Hermione Granger?”</p><p>Hermione raised a trembling hand. Lockhart saw her and noticed the Hammer next to her, “Excellent!” beamed Lockhart, “Quite excellent! Take ten points for Ravenclaw! And so to business…”</p><p>He bent down behind his desk and lifted a large, covered cage onto it.</p><p>“Now - be warned! It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizardkind! You may find yourselves facing your worst fears in this room. Know only that no harm can befall you whilst I am here. All I ask is that you remain calm.”</p><p>The Hammer tilted his hat up to see a little more clearly. He wasn’t hopeful but it did sound interesting. Lockhart placed a hand on the cover - Terry and Michael had stopped laughing. Neville did his best to put on a brave face.</p><p>“I must ask you not to scream,” Lockhart kept his voice low, “It might provoke them.”</p><p>The whole class held its breath and Lockhart whipped off the cover. “Yes,” he said with a showman’s flair, “<em> Freshly caught Cornish pixies </em>.” </p><p>Neville snorted. One that definitely wouldn’t be mistaken for fear.</p><p>“Something wrong?” Lockhart asked him with a smile.</p><p>“I mean, they’re not exactly dangerous. A nuisance, yeah, but my Nan’s never complained about them for more than a minute.” He replied.</p><p>“Don’t be so sure!” Lockhart responded with a wag of his finger, “Devilishly tricky little blighters they can be!”</p><p>The pixies were electric blue and about eight inches high with pointed faces and voices so shrill it was like listening to birds counter-calling. The moment the cover had been removed, they had started jabbering and rocketing around, rattling the bars and pulling bizarre faces at the people nearest them.</p><p>“Right then,” Lockhart said loud enough to be heard over the pixie cacophony, “Let’s see what you make of them!” <em> You idiot son of a- </em> The Hammer thought as the professor pulled open the cage.</p><p>Harry took off his hat and shoved it into his mokeskin pouch before they could get at it. It was pandemonium otherwise - the pixies shot in every direction like rockets. Several shot straight through the window, showering the back row with broken glass as the Hammer set to work casting a shield spell on himself. The rest proceeded to wreck the classroom more effectively than a tornado. The pests grabbed ink bottles and sprayed the class with them, shredded books and papers, tore pictures from the walls, upended the waste bin, grabbed bags and books and threw them out the smashed window; within minutes half the class was sheltering under desks, fending off the creatures with short arcs of weak spells in fear of ruining anything else in the room.</p><p>“Come on now, round them up, round them up, they’re only pixies…” Lockhart shouted in the confusion. Harry stayed ducked underneath his desk, looking to Neville and Hermione. Michael Corner crawled his way toward them but was dragged backwards a short distance by a handful of pixies before Hermione hit them with a stunning spell.</p><p>Lockhart rolled up his sleeves, brandished his wand and bellowed, “Peskipiksi Pesternomi!”</p><p>He may as well have been shouting a recipe for treacle. One of the pixies seized Lockhart’s wand and tossed it out the window too. Lockhart gulped and dived under his own desk.</p><p>The bell rang and the general consensus to leave led to a rush toward the exit. Harry waited for it to die down before standing up from under his desk just in time to be caught by Lockhart standing up himself. “Well, I’ll have to ask you three just to nip them back into their cage.” He said before rushing out the door and closing it behind him.</p><p>“This guy’s an idiot!” Harry exclaimed as he hit two pixies with Incendio and kicked their remains into a corner. In his blast, he had torched the top half of one of Lockhart’s portraits, whose inhabitant now cowered in the bottom half of the frame. This set the tone for the rest of the pixies who immediately tried to leave through the broken window before Hermione hit them all with an immobilizing spell.</p><p>“He just wanted to give us some hands-on experience.” Hermione replied in his defence.</p><p>“I really don’t know what you see in him, Angel.” Harry spoke scornfully, walking over and helping Neville pick up the rest of the immobilized pixies.</p><p>“He really doesn’t look like he knows what he’s doing.” Neville said, closing the door once the last one was back in.</p><p>“Rubbish,” Hermione argued, “You’ve read his books - look at all the things he’s done.”</p><p>“<em>Says </em> he’s done.” Harry replied.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It made the Hammer livid to know that Lockhart had been in Ravenclaw. The house was supposed to be for eccentric scholars and skilled researchers, not conniving talentless showmen. He wanted to talk to Professor Longbaugh about how Lockhart acted around the other staff members - there was no way an idiot like him could have done all the things he said he did. Maybe he could get some answers out of the talking hat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With the day over and some free time before dinner, the three friends made their way back up to the seventh floor to open the office for the first time since the last school year. After a few minutes of searching, they found the frosted glass door they remembered, popping it open and going inside. It was a comforting welcome for the Hammer - the setup of the room was everything he had needed: three desks in a wide U shape facing the door with some guest chairs all under a slowly revolving ceiling fan as well as a large thought board on the wall with the bits and pieces of the last case he had worked on for another student. It turned out Peeves liked to dump ink into the laundry deliveries on occasion. Sometimes it was invisible ink that showed up under moonlight and bore resemblance to the Bloody Baron’s smock.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The start of the new year brought up new cases, but he left the one that had stayed on strong up in the corner - a piece of paper with “V” inked on it. The new ones for this year fell under the titles of “Narcissus” and “The Elf”. The latter was connected to the V in the corner. He wrote both new headings on their own pieces of parchment in his craggly shorthand and stuck them up to the corkboard.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So the elf, I get, but why Narcissus?” Hermione asked when Harry stepped away from the board.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s Lockhart. I don’t get why he’s a professor and I don’t get why he was sorted into Ravenclaw.” Harry spoke with an aggressive edge.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why can’t you just trust in the fact that the headmaster chose him for the position and he did that because he believes in Professor Lockhart’s skill?” She replied.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think you’re blinded to it. I can’t see what you’re seeing and from the way he carries himself, his story’s got more holes than a dirty sponge.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well - that or he’s the only one left who even wants the position. Everybody knows DADA is cursed, even outside of Hogwarts.” Neville added.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before they could argue any further, there was a hesitant knock on the glass of the door. Harry and Hermione glared at each other, leaving Neville to go answer it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, I, Hammer! We’ve got visitors!” He called back, “Oh, yes, please come in.” Neville stammered all over himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A moment later, Luna Lovegood sauntered through the door - followed by Ginny Weasley in her wake, the latter blushing as red as the trim of her robes when she saw the Hammer behind his desk.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, this really is your office.” Luna spoke airily, looking around the room, “I like your squiggles. They’re very endearing.” She pointed at the thought board and its shorthand contents.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So what can I do for you - uh, two?” The Hammer asked, putting his hat back on.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, you told me to meet you in your office earlier, but you never told me where it was. So I had to ask Ginny - she knows quite an awful lot about you, right Ginny?” Luna clarified, a mysterious smile on her face as she looked over to her friend.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ginny turned an even brighter shade of red as she nodded, unable to look up at Harry. Hermione stopped herself from glaring by opening up the file cabinet and pretending to read something inside. Neville on the other hand, couldn’t take his eyes off Luna.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So what is it we can help you with?” Hermione asked Luna, pulling a new folder out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, Ginny tells me you’re ever so good at finding things. It’s that most of my clothes and quite a few of my left shoes have gone somewhere. I thought it was Nargles at first, but Ginny tells me it might be some of our housemates hiding them.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They’re bullying you? Who? I’ll find the no good-” Harry was already ready to be angry.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know, though I would very much like to have all of my things back sooner. I’m sure they would come back eventually, but I do need them for school.” The blonde responded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll  - “ Hermione elbowed him in the side, “We’ll take the case.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, wonderful. Thank you so much.” She thanked them, the expression in her watery blue eyes like she was looking right through them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can you write down a list of everything you’re missing? We can get started as soon as you do.” Luna had already prepared one and handed it across the table to Harry before standing. She tugged a little on Ginny’s robes to get her to stand as well - the little redheaded girl walked out behind her as if in a trance.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Neville let out a breath that sounded like he had been holding it in the entire time Luna had been talking.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you alright there, Nev?” Harry asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I- er, yeah, Hammer. There’s just something </span>
  <em>
    <span>different</span>
  </em>
  <span> about that Luna girl. Something…” He said the evaluation with a sense of unbridled awe. The Hammer cocked an eyebrow,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, aside from being a cosmonaut, she </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> a blonde.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sound of Hermione slapping her forehead with her palm was thunderous. “You just don’t get it, do you, Harry?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Get what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She looked at him sternly, her mouth opening to speak but then closing it again before she turned a shade of scarlet herself. She batted at the front brim of his hat, pulling it down over his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What!?” He yelled in even more surprise, tugging up on his fedora.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Whatever. Let’s split up and go look for them separately. It’ll go faster that way.” She snatched the list away from him and copied it into her own notebook twice before ripping out the additional copy and handing it to Neville.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll go look in the places only girls can go. You two can go everywhere else.” She left in a huff before Harry could protest, slinging her bag over her shoulder and slamming both doors behind her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry looked over to Neville, holding Luna’s original list in hand, “You know, Nev. I don’t get her sometimes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Me neither, Hammer. Me neither.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The two of them decided to split floors, Neville would go high and Harry would go low and meet in the middle at the library. Armed with the secret passages that the Weasley twins had given him the year before, it improved his chances of finding Luna’s things no matter which nooks and crannies they may have drifted into.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By the time he was almost back to the Library, he had only found a handful of things. It was a frustrating experience feeling like he was missing out and knowing full well why: the twins had held out on him when they had first given him the secret passages he knew of. There must have been another map they had been using that had more passages in it. Sitting down at his favourite study table, Madam Pince shushed him when his stomach growled. Eventually, Neville came in dusty and bedraggled with a handful more of their client’s items - somehow mostly her shoes, all the laces tied together to make it easier for him to carry.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By that point, it was time for dinner. The two of them headed back down to the Great Hall and took their seats, Hermione eventually joining them with the things she had found. They had most of her list, but everyone had come up short. When Luna walked in, the Hammer waved her down and invited her to sit across from himself and Hermione. Neville almost choked on his food when she greeted him - accepting the things they had found thus far back with a few words of thanks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait here a second,” Harry said while he was still standing, walking over to the Gryffindor table where the twins were just sitting down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fred, George. Oh, hi Ron. Ginny. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Percy.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” He greeted the Weasley pile in turn, Ginny lighting up like a beacon as soon as he acknowledged her existence. It was a little strange. “Listen, guys, can I have a chat after dinner where we first talked?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Always glad to chat with a paying customer.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Especially a local celebrity client.” “Though we don’t accept autographed headshots as payment.” They were taking the mickey out of him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah, figures my autograph isn’t worth a Knut around here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After dinner, the Hammer told his investigative colleagues where he would be heading and hurried off upstairs. Hermione tried to remind him of curfew to his back, but that had never stopped him before. Once he reached the armour hall and checked that the coast was clear, the Hammer popped open the latches to the entrance behind the display cabinet, lit his wand, and slipped in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hammer, hello, hello.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What is it that you wanted from us?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Weasleys were their usual synchronized selves in the corner of the secret passage.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fred, George, I’ve got some serious problems I think only the two of you can solve.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you want to buy an engagement ring already? That’s bold Harry, maybe wait till after your OWLs.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What? No! I need the rest of the secret passages because someone is bullying a client of mine and I think her stuff might’ve somehow gotten lost in the ones I don’t know about because this school is a pile of nonsense.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The twins nodded in unison with their hands on their chins miming thought and understanding. Immediately after, they both held up a single finger to tell Harry to wait before turning around to have a discussion in a two man huddle. The Hammer was convinced that they had to rehearse their synchronicity when no one else was around to enjoy it. After a few moments of whispered discussion, they turned back around.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So we talked about it”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“-and we’re fans of your work,”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But what we really want to know…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is what exactly you’ll be doing if we gave you the tricks to our trade?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And how much mischief do you plan on making?’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry couldn’t help but chuckle at their presentation. “To be frank, gents, right now I need it for this case. There’s a birdhouse broad that’s getting shorted by someone and I aim to make it right. After that, well, the sky’s the limit. You saw what happened last year. Between you two and me, I’ve got something I’m working on - something the teachers don’t believe in. If you let me in on it, you might just save my life.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The twins both had enthusiastic grins creep across their faces the longer Harry talked. By the end, the Hammer could tell he had won them over. They both nodded again before Fred produced a large, folded sheet of parchment - by all accounts plain and completely innocuous.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Welcome back behind the curtain, Hammer. This is the secret.” He tapped his wand onto the sheet and recited the phrase “I solemnly swear I’m up to no good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thin ink lines began to spread like a spider’s web from the point his wand had touched. They criss-crossed, joined, bloomed into every corner of the parchment in enchanted filigree before words blossomed across the top in great, curly green letters,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Are Proud to Present</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>THE MARAUDER’S MAP”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry’s eyes grew wide. It was a map showing every detail of the Hogwarts castle and grounds. The truly remarkable thing about the map was in the tiny ink dots buzzing around it - all of them labelled with the name it represented in miniscule writing. The Hammer leaned his face in close to read the labels - a lone dot paced in the Chief’s study with his name duly assigned, another lone point was labeled with the name of the caretaker’s cat, Mrs. Norris on the second floor, and Peeves the Poltergeist was bouncing about in the Grand Staircase. Scanning more points in the dark, he saw clusters of names in each of the common rooms - Neville was already in the Hufflepuff basement, and Hermione had taken roost in her favourite reading chair in the Ravenclaw Tower, and a large gaggle of Gryffindors were in their dorms. Something caught his eye in Gryffindor tower, a name that disappeared behind all the others, something ending in “-tigrew”. Before he could look for it again, George’s finger was on the map, pointing out the passages that hadn’t been shown to him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There were many. Some led inside the castle from one point to another, and others led all the way down to Hogsmeade. “There’s seven in all if you’d like to get out. Now, Filch knows about these four,” he pointed them out, “and be careful with this one on the fourth floor behind the mirror. It’s looking a mite unstable. This one’s covered by that Whomping Willow at the edge of the grounds, but this one here leads right up into the cellar at Honeydukes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How did you two even get your hands on this?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s a story from our first year, my dear Hammer - young, carefree, and innocent-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry let out a snort that he cut off, sounding more like a balloon losing air.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well - more innocent than we are now. We had a bit of a run in with Filch.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We let off a Dungbomb in the corridor and it upset him for some reason-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So he hauled us off to his office and started threatening us with the usual” - “</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“- detention -”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“- disembowelment -”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“- and we couldn’t help noticing a drawer in one of his filing cabinets marked </span>
  <em>
    <span>Confiscated and Highly Dangerous</span>
  </em>
  <span>…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’d expect no less from you two.” The Hammer said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh no, not us, but rather Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs,” Fred said with a sigh, patting the heading on the map, “We owe them so much.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Truly, noble men working tirelessly to help a new generation of law breakers.” George said solemnly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, right, when you’re done, don’t forget to wipe it before you put it away.” “Or else anyone can read it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just tap it and say, ‘Mischief managed!’ and it’ll go blank again.” George demonstrated the point.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry folded the map closed again, his hands shaking with excitement.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you, I- I don’t know what to say. This. This is…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Both twins clapped him on the back simultaneously, “There’s nothing to say, Hammer! This is our gift to you in good faith that you’ll make the most mischief you can with it. And with your record, we expect nothing but the best!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, thanks gents. You’re really saving my bacon here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They shook hands and parted ways - the twins headed off in a direction that would return them to their respective dormitory. The Hammer had other plans, though.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Leaving the way he came in, Harry threw on the cloak of invisibility he had inherited and rushed to the nearest passages he hadn’t checked and began to run the floors himself. He was dedicated to finding the rest of Luna’s things before the day was done and he was willing to stake his reputation as a detective on it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Coming back into the Ravenclaw common room just after curfew had started was a feeling of glory. Harry had found the rest of Luna’s things tossed haphazardly in some of the strange places that the twins had pointed out on the Marauder’s map. He came striding in with a wide grin on his face and the rest of Luna’s stuff in his hands and the map safely tucked away in his mokeskin pouch.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hermione, can you go get Luna out of the first year rooms?” He called out to her before he had even shut the eagle door behind him. She looked up over her evening’s reading, another one of Lockhart’s assigned books, her eyes going wide.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No. No way!” She said with more than a hint of disbelief.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, now would you please, Precious? Otherwise I won’t tell you how I did it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She crumpled a spare piece of parchment and threw it at his head before going. When she had returned with Luna in tow, Harry handed his client her things back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you!” Luna said in a matter-of-fact tone, “I knew that Ginny and the Grey Lady were right about you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess we can call this solved.” The Hammer told her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I- that is, I don’t think I have any way to pay you.” Luna continued.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, no, this is fine.” Hermione cut in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But we are part of a club that could always use more members. It’s a place to share Muggle things with pureblood wizards. I think the first meeting of the Muggle Culture Club is going to be coming up soon, we’d like it if you’d show up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “Of course. I’ll be there.” Luna smiled a mysterious smile - not that she intentionally meant anything by the way she did it, just that neither Harry nor Hermione could quite read what it was she wanted to mean by it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The next day after class in the seventh floor office, Harry showed Neville and Hermione the map, unfolding it and saying the phrases to turn it on and off as well as showing the details they could discern from it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is amazing, Hammer!” Neville said, looking at some of his favorite spots in the castle and tracing his finger along the previously unknown passages that led to them, “This’ll be really helpful when it comes to solving cases!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hermione made a disapproving noise, tracing her fingers along certain parts where the dots were most active. “I don’t like it, Harry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course you don’t like it. You love rules too much.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No! Well, yes. Rules are necessary to a - no, that wasn’t my point! Look how powerful this map is! It’s far beyond anything we’re capable of making. Who are Mooney, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs? We don’t know anything about them.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hermione wrote down the map creators on their own separate pieces of parchment and put them up on the thought board. Her hand hesitated with her wand, deciding whether or not it would be proper to put a tentative link between them and ‘V’.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Even if they were up to no good, I don’t think their brand of mischief counts as dark magic.” Harry read her doubt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, but it still doesn’t sit well with me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, guys? We’ve got a visitor.” Neville interrupted them again, this time pointing to the silhouette they could see through the frosted glass of the privacy screen. Her silhouette was ages older than modern dress, the design of her worn robes different from any the children had seen in Hogwarts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come in, sweetheart.” Harry called out through the glass. In response a shining silvery form drifted through the door, materializing in detail with her hands clasped in front of her, floating like she was standing in front of the Hammer’s desk.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Helena. It’s nice of you to visit.” Harry greeted her. Neville sat with his mouth open - he hadn’t seen the Grey Lady interacting with anyone up close since the Hammer’s sorting ceremony.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Greetings, child. Luna tells me that you helped her find her things.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I couldn’t have done it without these two.” Harry motioned toward his friends. She smiled at both of them, giving them a curt, polite nod of her head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So what can I do for you?” Harry asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I come bearing an invitation. This Hallowe’en will be Sir Nicholas’s five hundredth death day,” Harry assumed it was like a birthday, but the opposite, “and he would like your presence there. To cut to the heart, I would like your presence there. There is someone I think you should bear meeting.” Helena’s image shimmered in the light.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you sure you don’t just want someone to talk to at Nick’s party?” Harry asked with a sly smile on his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“As much as I do enjoy having intellectual equals present at Sir Nicholas’s events, I spoke the plain truth before - there is someone whom I think you should meet.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright sister, you got yourself a deal so long as my team can come with me.” the Hammer pointed to the other two with his thumb.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Very well,” said the Grey Lady, “I shall inform Nicholas of your additional guests.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Was that it?” The Hammer said, “Just a party invitation? I figured you might have something juicier I could be working on.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Helena gave him an enigmatic smile, “Then I’m sure the party will be to your interest.” She said before floating through the floor, having given up on maintaining the veneer of mortality. The Hammer scratched his head - he didn’t know what to do with women and riddles like that, much less about women telling him riddles with plans within plans.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A deathday party?” Neville asked once she was gone, “I don’t think I’ve ever been to one of those.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t imagine there are many living people who have.” Hermione said, turning back to the thought board.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>October arrived and the damp chill with it, coursing over the grounds and permeating the castle. Madam Pomfrey, the infirmary matron, had ordered two full crates of Pepperup Potion to deal with the spate of colds and illness amongst the students and staff. It was an odd brew - alleviating the symptoms immediately, but leaving the drinker smoking from the ears for several hours afterward. The Hammer had noticed Ginny Weasley across the Great Hall at breakfast, looking like her whole head was on fire. He felt a twinge of sympathy for her - with Percy as her prefect, he had probably bullied her into taking it. Harry had caught sight of her in the halls recently and she </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> been looking pale.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before he knew it, Hallowe’en had arrived and the Deathday party and the questions that went with it were all the Hammer had on his mind. Neville, on the other hand, looked rather pale about the whole affair. The Hammer had given him the option to stay and attend the regular Hallowe’en feast, but his response had been, “No, you got me the invite, Hammer. I’ll go… I’ll go.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Great Hall had been decorated with the usual clouds of bats and Hagrid had contributed enormous pumpkins the size of Harry’s dorm room, large enough to seat three. There were even rumours that Dumbledore had booked a troupe of dancing skeletons for entertainment. Aside from wanting to ask the bones about necromancy and how exactly that fit into the spectrum of magic, the Hammer was hoping he’d be able to grab some food at some point.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At seven o’clock, the three friends walked past the Great Hall and down the steps into the dungeons. The passageway leading to the Deathday party had been lined with candles - long, thin, jet-black things all burning bright blue and casting a dim, ghostly light on their own still-living faces. The hallway grew colder with every step they took closer to the room. The three walked closer together, drawing their robes in more tightly when the sound of what felt like a thousand fingernails scraping a blackboard came to them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer gritted his teeth as they turned the corner, coming in sight of Nearly Headless Nick floating at a doorway hung with black velvet drapes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, Harry, so glad you could make it” He said mournfully, “Please, come in, welcome.” He swept off his plumed hat and bowed them inside. The Hammer took out a red scarf and put it on, wrapping it around his neck and doing his best to resemble the Shadow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The dungeon was full of hundreds of pearly-white, translucent people drifting around a crowded central area that served as a dance floor, their forms waltzing to the awful sound that they had heard coming down the hallway. The noise was being played by an orchestra on a raised, black-draped platform using decrepit musical saws. Above them, a chandelier blazed midnight-blue with a thousand more black candles. Harry wondered who had set the whole thing up whilst Hermione put on a scarf of her own and handed Neville her spare set of ear muffs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s go find the Lady.” The Hammer spoke through his scarf, his glasses fogging up. They passed around the edge of the dance floor, the Hammer tipping his hat at a gaggle of gloomy nuns, a ragged man wearing chains, and the Fat Friar, Hufflepuff’s cheerful mascot ghost who was in a conversation with a knight with an arrow sticking out of his forehead. The Hammer was surprised to receive a single long, slow nod from the Bloody Baron, his gaunt form and milky eyes set above his bloodstained robes highlighting his nom de guerre.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There she is - oh no - she’s talking to Moaning Myrtle.” Hermione whispered to Harry.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who?” Harry asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She haunts one of the toilets in the girls’ bathroom on the first floor.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A toilet?’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, it’s been out of order all year because she keeps having tantrums and flooding the place. Everyone tries to avoid that too since it’s so uncomfortable trying to have a pee with all her wailing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is - are those student’s robes she’s wearing?” The Hammer felt like he had found something. The Grey lady paused her conversation and pointed at the trio, beckoning them with the same finger once she had seen them acknowledge her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Helena, nice to see you.” Harry tipped his hat and adjusted his scarf to cover his nose.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello, Harry. This is-” “MOANING PIMPLY MYRTLE” An apparition wearing a bright orange party hat and a revolving bow tie interrupted her. Myrtle looked like she was about to cry.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stay Myrtle. Leave us Peeves.” The Grey Lady suddenly burned with a pale fire - her form glowing in its silvery presence, her features stark, terrible and beautiful.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Or whats, or whats?” Peeves spun cartwheels next to them, his smile grating.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Or the Baron will help me.” Helena spoke in a voice the Hammer had never heard her use. He thought he felt his heart stop up in his throat. It had given Peeves the same reaction - the flippant poltergeist fled immediately and the Grey Lady returned to her normal visage.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry took in a breath of freezing cold air and curled his fingers, realizing Hermione had taken hold of his hand in the commotion. When the feeling came back to their fingers, he gave her a quick look before she drew her hand back, allowing him to turn back to their ghostly patron.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“As I was saying, this is Myrtle. This is Harry Potter-Mason.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Call me the Hammer.” He tipped his hat to the new ghost.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re just making fun of me.” Myrtle pouted, sniffing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No lady, that’s actually my nickname. But I wanted to ask you some questions.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Only because she said you wouldn’t make fun.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Those are school robes, right?” Harry asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh yes, I was a student here. A Ravenclaw. Just. Like. You.” Myrtle replied, singsong.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What? That’s not right! You died here while you were a student!?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh yes, it was quite terrible. Very gruesome.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I want to know more - can you -” The Hammer was interrupted when a hunting horn sounded from somewhere. Through the dungeon wall burst a dozen ghost horses, each ridden by a headless horseman. The assembly began to clap wildly, much to Harry’s chagrin. “I’ll meet you in your toilet, Myrtle. I want to know more.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The horses galloped into the middle of the dance floor and halted, rearing and plunging. At the front of the pack, a large ghost holding his bearded head under his arm was blowing the horn. Looking around as the ghost leapt from his horse to make his ostentatious entrance with Nicholas, Harry saw the Grey Lady had already faded away - leaving the party before the real shenanigans could start.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The headless man on the horse had shoved his head back onto his neck and was making a scene. A very loud scene. Myrtle had begun to wail and drifted off through the back wall. There wasn’t anything left for him here, but he had just been handed a new case.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer signalled for them to leave and began walking out the way they had come in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think we could all do with some tea, or hot chocolate.” said Hermione as they hurried along the hall, unwrapping themselves of their winter vestments.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pudding might not be over.”  said Neville hopefully.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“... rip… tear… kill” said a faint voice like it was coming out of the walls. The Hammer stumbled to an abrupt halt, his friends continuing a few paces before noticing that he had stopped. Harry took his hat off and put his ear to the wall, closing his eyes and trying to hear the voice more clearly. He held up a finger to warn his friends, “... kill… time to kill…” The voice was growing fainter. It was moving away - maybe upward. The Hammer scanned the ceiling before closing his eyes and returning his ear to the wall. Was it a ghost? Was it the Baron? It couldn’t be the Baron - the Baron had chains and the Hammer had heard him speak before.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“... so hungry… for so long…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you two hear that?” The Hammer spoke in an urgent whisper, his eyes still closed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, Harry, you're scaring-” The Hammer held his hand up again and cut Hermione off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...kill...time to kill”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer broke out into a run, yelling for his friends to keep up. They passed the open entrance of the Great Hall, the echoes of the Hallowe’en feast drowning out the faint voice he was listening for.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hammer, what’re we” “SHH!” They paused at the top of some stairs, “... I smell blood… I SMELL BLOOD.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not good! It sounds like a murder!” The Hammer shouted, urging his friends to come with him as he clambered up more stairs three steps at a time. They scrambled out onto the second floor, the two following Harry on faith alone, the Hammer placing one hand on his head to hold down his hat as he sprinted through the halls, finally coming to a stop in a deserted passage.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hermione gasped before anyone even had a chance to catch their breath, pointing down the corridor, “Look!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Foot-high words had been daubed on the wall between two windows, shimmering in the light cast from the torches nearby,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Neville walked closer to examine an indeterminate blob hanging from the torch bracket before recoiling in horror. “Ha-Ha-Hamm-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I see it, Nev. I see it, but I don’t get it.” The Hammer placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder, eyes adjusting to the light. It was Mrs. Norris, Filch’s cat, hanging by her tail from the ironworks supporting the torch next to it, stiff as a board with eyes wide and staring.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who-who could have done this?” Hermione began to reach for it, but the Hammer grasped her wrist.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lumos Tenebrosus!” Harry lit his wand with black light, using the violet glow to examine the scene. “We shouldn’t touch anything. God knows we’re about to take the fall for all of this.” He said and checked his watch - dinnertime was almost over.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The letters were written in blood - Tenebrosus told him true. It was disheartening, but not unexpected. The water on the floor was otherwise natural and the cat looked like it had been scared into place and frozen in it. The Hammer couldn’t make heads or tails of it - obviously someone had hit the cat with a spell to freeze it in place, but why? And how did a stony cat connect to the voice?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hermione gave a muffled squeak, keeping a hand on her mouth whilst pulling her foot from where she was standing, kicking away a fist sized spider that had crawled onto it. The spider flipped itself over from where it had landed and scurried back in line with a long queue of others, all of them headed for the window. The three children stared in confusion.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The rumble of a crowd rolling in like thunder from a distant strike interrupted the Hammer’s thoughts. From either end of the corridor the hustle and bustle of loud, happy well-fed people closed in on their position.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>An unnatural silence descended upon the approaching crowd as the people in front spotted the frozen cat. Harry, Hermione, and Neville stood apart under the violet glow of the Hammer’s wand as the crowd pressed in on the scene.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A voice shouted through the silence, “Enemies of the heir beware! You’ll be next, Mudbloods!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer turned to see Draco Malfoy. He had pushed his way to the front of the crowd, his face flushed and his beady little eyes glimmering at the sight of the cat, a self satisfied grin on his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer watched him carefully, extinguishing his wand.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“What’s going on here? What’s going on?” Argus Filch came shouldering his way through the crowd, trying to preserve his sense of order. When he saw Mrs. Norris, he fell back, clutching his lined face in horror.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My cat! My cat! What’s happened to Mrs. Norris?” He shrieked, his bulging eyes falling to the Hammer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” He screeched, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>You!</span>
  </em>
  <span> You’ve murdered my cat! You’ve killed her! I’ll kill you! I’ll-” The Hammer tightened his grip on his wand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Argus!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dumbledore had arrived on the scene, followed by a number of teachers. He swept past the three children and removed Mrs. Norris from the bracket.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come with me, Argus.” He said to Filch, “You as well Mr. Mason, Mr. Longbottom, and Miss Granger.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lockhart stepped forward in earnest. “My office is nearest, Headmaster - just upstairs - please feel free-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you, Gilderoy.” Dumbledore said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The crowd parted to let them pass, everyone looking like they were still holding their breath and expecting the worst. In an attempt to look important, Lockhart hurried after Dumbledore along with Professor McGonagall, Snape, and Flitwick.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A flurry of movement across the walls marked their entry into Lockhart’s darkened office. Several of his pictures dodged out of sight with their hair in rollers. The real one lit the candles on his desk and stood back, allowing Dumbledore to lay Mrs. Norris on the polished surface and examine her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The three children looked at each other and sank into chairs outside the pool of light, not wanting to interrupt. Harry used what little illumination there was to scribble everything he could remember into his pocket notebook. Realizing what the Hammer was doing, Hermione and Neville began to do the same.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The tip of Dumbledore’s long, crooked nose was barely an inch from Mrs. Norris’s fur. He peered through his half moon spectacles, his fingers gently prodding and poking. Professor McGonagall was bent next to him, almost as close with her eyes narrowed. Professor Flitwick had climbed up onto a chair, then the table itself and was kneeling to examine it opposite the Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress. Snape loomed behind all of them, half in shadow, the dispassionate look on his face like he was trying to contain a smile. Meanwhile, Lockhart was bouncing between the open places, trying to make suggestions.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Definitely looks like a curse that killed her - perhaps the Transmogrifian Torture. I’ve seen it used many times, so unlucky I wasn’t there. I know the very counter-curse that would have saved her.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Filch sobbed, dry and raking, slumped in a chair by the desk, unable to look at his cat with his face in his hands. Harry felt a twinge of sympathy for him - he didn’t seem to have any friends otherwise.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dumbledore began to mutter words under his breath and tapped Mrs. Norris with his wand, but to no avail. The cat remained frozen in apoplectic horror.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I remember something very similar happening in Ouagadougou,” Lockhart interjected, “a series of attacks, the full story’s in my autobiography. I was able to provide the townsfolk with various amulets which cleared the matter up at once…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The photographs of Lockhart on the walls nodded in agreement as he talked. One of them was still wearing a hair net.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She’s not dead, Argus.” Dumbledore spoke after a long silence. This stopped Lockhart abruptly in the middle of counting the number of murders he had prevented. Harry needed to add one to his own list for not strangling Lockhart on the spot.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not dead?” Filch choked through his tears, looking through his fingers at Mrs. Norris, “but then why’s she all stiff and frozen?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She’s been petrified.” Dumbledore replied.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah! I thought so!” Lockhart added.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Though I cannot say precisely how.” Dumbledore finished his thought, removing his spectacles to clean them with his sleeve.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ask </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>! He did this!” Filch shrieked, pointing an accusatory finger at Harry.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Prove it, prick.” The Hammer retorted immediately.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Calm down, Harry.” Professor Flitwick walked between them, but his diminutive stature did nothing to block Filch’s glare, “Please Argus, it is well beyond the power of a second year student to do this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Filius is correct,” Dumbledore tried to rein it in, “This would take an advanced Dark Magic to-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He did it, he did it!” Filch spat, his pouchy face turning purple, You saw what he wrote on the wall!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ain’t none of us wrote that junk.” The Hammer yelled again until Professor Flitwick turned around and placed a hand up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Give me your wand, Harry. We all saw that you had it out.” Flitwick held out an open hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Professor! Hammer only cast Lumos to examine the crime scene!” Neville jumped to his friend’s defence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please don’t worry, Mr. Longbottom. This will be for his own good.” Flitwick told him gently.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer handed over his wand to Professor Flitwick, shoving both hands into his pockets and glaring at Filch over the Professor’s head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Prior Incantato.” Flitwick cast a spell on Harry’s wand with his own. A small orb of violet light appeared at the tip of the Hammer’s wand. “Ah, there’s Lumos Tenebrosus.” Flitwick commented with a hint of pride before pulling the tip of his wand away from his student’s, dragging the violet orb back and revealing a flat, green triangle shape, “Ah I believe this is the form of the spell we were practicing in my class.” Flitwick kept narrating. He pulled the wand a little further again, revealing a prickly blue star, “And that is the spell we practised in mine.” Professor McGonagall spoke when she saw it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Finite Incantatem.” Professor Flitwick ended his spell and handed Harry’s wand back to him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I do believe this exonerates Mr. Mason, Argus.” Dumbledore spoke.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Though, if I may speak, Headmaster,” Snape chimed in from the shadows, “While Mason and his friends may have simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time,” he had a sneer curling his mouth as though he doubted it, “we do have a set of very suspicious circumstances here. Why were they in the upstairs corridor at all? Why weren’t they at the Hallowe’en feast?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We were at Nearly Headless Nick’s Deathday party.” Hermione told him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But why not join the feast afterwards?” said Snape, his black eyes glittering in the candlelight. “Why go up to that corridor?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Neville and Hermione looked at Harry. The Hammer took his hat off and stared Snape in the eyes unobstructed, “I’ve got a right to silence. I’d like an appropriate adult and a lawyer, please.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Snape made a surprised expression, incredulous, “What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You heard me. Am I under arrest? Am I free to go? If not I’ll be keeping silent until you fulfill your legal obligations.” Neville’s stomach growled in spite of itself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dumbledore burst out laughing. All eyes turned to him. He had it through and wiped the corners of his eyes with his gnarled finger.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ho ho, Mr. Potter-Mason. You certainly do know what to say to confound your seniors - but he’s right, Severus. There isn’t enough here to lay any blame on him, or his very brave friends.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My cat has been Petrified!” Filch shrieked, eyes bulging, “I want to see some </span>
  <em>
    <span>punishment</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Innocent until proven guilty. We will be able to cure her, Argus. Professor Sprout recently managed to procure some Mandrakes. As soon as they have reached their full size, I will have a potion made which will revive Mrs. Norris.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’ll be my pleasure to make it,” Lockhart volunteered, “I must have done it a hundred times. I could whip up a Mandrake Restorative Draught in my sleep -”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Excuse me,” Snape spoke, his words like ice, “but I believe </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> am the Potions master at this school.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The silence rang in everyone’s ears. Harry put his hat back on.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You may go,” Dumbledore said to Harry, Neville and Hermione. The Hammer took the opportunity to cross the room and look Filch in the eye before speaking, “You don’t like me, that’s fine. But I promise you, I’m going to find out who did this. The Hammer’s on the case.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a general uproar with half of the present staff yelling a combination of “No, Harry!”, “No you won’t!”, and “Not again!” before Hermione pulled Harry away by his collar. The three of them followed the stairs all the way up to the seventh floor - they needed somewhere to talk privately.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the office, Harry shut the doors behind them once Neville and Hermione were through.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What just happened, Hammer?” Neville asked, head in his hands at the desk.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We just got a new case. That or it’s part of one of the ones we’ve got up on the wall already.” Harry said as he wrote new titles onto the pieces of paper, “Felix” for Mrs. Norris, “Porcelain Queen” for Myrtle, and “Whispers”.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He connected Felix and Whispers to the elf and to each other, but placed Porcelain Queen off on her own for the moment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So what do we have, Hermione?” Harry bounced his ideas out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We have a petrified cat, the phrases ‘The Chamber of Secrets is open’ and ‘Enemies of the heir beware’, that-that line of spiders, what you heard that led you to that hallway in the first place, and whatever it is you’re on about with Moaning Myrtle.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She was a student who died here, Hermione. Don’t you see how wrong that is? I just want to know more - especially since she had a Ravenclaw buzzer on.” The Hammer drew a small picture of a birdhouse and connected it to both Narcissus and the Queen. He didn’t know if there was anything else in common between them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What about Malfoy?” Neville asked, looking up at their work.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, what about Malfoy?” Harry stood with a hand on his chin, tapping it to think. Hermione wrote “Puff” and connected it tentatively to the cat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“For Puff the magic dragon, you get it?” Hermione said over her shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I like it, it’s like a six layer insult.” Harry replied.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t.” Neville said, feeling a little left out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The two explained it to him, starting with the song. Afterward, the Hammer sat down, placing his hat on the desk and his feet up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tell us, Harry, what did you hear that dragged you up to the corridor?” Hermione asked, taking her seat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You two didn’t hear it?” Harry said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, Hammer, we just followed you. You looked like you were trying to listen to something in the walls and then just started running. You didn’t say anything about it!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh.” The Hammer rubbed his head at the scar, “I… I heard a voice. Those whispers. There was something just moving around like it didn’t care where the walls and the floor were.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hermione got up and put a hand on Harry’s forehead.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” He asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just wanted to see if you were feverish.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not ill! I’m not crazy either!” The Hammer recoiled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, even for wizards, Hammer, hearing voices isn’t healthy.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer grumbled, scratching his head. “I think we should start with the magic. What causes that kind of petrification?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The professors said it would be Dark Magic.” Hermione offered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, but anything else? Anything ancient or an artefact like last year with the Cintamani stone? Big magic dogs? I dunno.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It might actually be a magical creature, Hammer.” Neville commented.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That does make some sense.” Hermione drummed her fingers on the desk, “Gosh I wish we could go to the library.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then next chance you get, head over there.” Harry agreed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What can I do, Hammer?” Neville asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Go with her, but look for magic defences. I don’t want any one of us caught with our robes hiked up and our trousers down when it comes time to bring this guy in.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Neville nodded an affirmative.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then what are you working on, Harry?” Hermione asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Next chance I get, I want to go talk to Myrtle. That’s my first order of business - but afterward, I think it’ll take all three of us, but I want some face to face time with Malfoy to find out what he knows.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How are we going to do that?” Neville asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry screwed his face up in thought.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You could always just take him to Myrtle’s bathroom, no one ever goes in there.” Hermione said sarcastically.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s perfect, angel. I can think of just the right way to do it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The school was abuzz with rumours of the circumstances around Mrs. Norris. Filch had decided to cope with his grief by pacing the spot where she had been attacked as though the culprit would return to the scene of the crime. He had spent time scouring the sanguine message with “Mrs. Slower’s All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover” but to no effect; the words still gleamed as brightly as ever on the stone. To fill the time when he wasn’t standing vigil at the scene of the crime, Filch skulked red-eyed through the corridors, lunging out at unsuspecting students and trying to put them in detention for things like ‘breathing loudly’ or ‘looking happy’.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Neville had told the Hammer over breakfast that there were already a plethora of rumours surrounding Harry’s involvement with it. The Hufflepuff prefect had even asked Neville to reconsider his friendship with Harry for his own safety. The Hammer shrugged it off and bided his time until the interview. Hermione, on the other hand had gone to the library before breakfast and was already surrounded by a stack of research when they had found her for the morning meal. Both left having only said two words to her the whole time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Myrtle’s bathroom was as easy to find as Hermione had described it - he heard her sobbing from out in the hall leading up to it. He knocked sharply twice before entering. The Hammer let out a whistle - the layout of this girl’s bathroom was much more spacious than the boy’s. Myrtle had paused her crying, but sniffled loudly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come to make fun of me?” Her wavering voice came in through the stalls, followed by more sniffing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, Myrtle. It’s Harry Potter-Mason. The Hammer. I came to talk to you like I said I would at the Deathday party.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A ghostly head of a young woman sporting pigtails and large, round framed glasses came through the nearest stall door, “Oh?” she said curiously, looking Harry over.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, toots. The Hammer keeps his word.” The ghost giggled, floating the rest of the way through the door and doing a somersault before settling herself up on the ledge of an overlooking window.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You sound like the muggles that were around when I was still alive.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s on purpose. What is your full name, anyway Myrtle?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Myrtle Elizabeth Warren,” she said, floating down from her perch, examining Harry more closely. The Hammer wrote it down as a heading in his notebook.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, what year were you here last? You were a Ravenclaw too, from what you told me at the party.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh yes, it was horrible here,” She looked like she was about to start crying again, “Everyone used to make fun of me for every little thing - even my glasses.” Harry touched two fingers to his own, thinking of Malfoy, “They called me </span>
  <em>
    <span>ugly</span>
  </em>
  <span> Myrtle, </span>
  <em>
    <span>pimply</span>
  </em>
  <span> Myrtle, </span>
  <em>
    <span>stupid, moaning</span>
  </em>
  <span> Myrtle!” The ghost began to cry again whilst Harry plugged away at his notes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Listen doll, that wouldn’t fly today. I’m making sure of it. How did you die?” The Hammer cut back in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Myrtle stopped crying immediately, looking like he had just asked her something extremely flattering.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ooh, it was dreadful,” She said with gusto, “It happened right in here. I died in that cubicle.” She pointed at one of the stalls down the way, “I remember it so well. I’d hidden because Olive Hornby was teasing me about my glasses. The door was locked and I was crying, and then I heard somebody come in. They said something funny, a different language, I think it must have been. Anyway what really got me was that it was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>boy</span>
  </em>
  <span> speaking. So I unlocked the door, to tell him to go and use his own toilet and then -” Myrtle swelled importantly, her face shining, “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>died</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How? What did you see?” Harry asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No idea,” Myrtle said in a hushed tone. “I just remember seeing a pair of great big yellow eyes. My whole body sort of seized up, and then I was floating away…” She looked dreamily at Harry, “And then I came back again. I was determined to haunt Olive Hornby, you see. Oh, she was sorry she’d ever laughed at my glasses.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer scribbled notes furiously - murder in the toilet, strange language, unknown male, yellow eyes. “Where exactly in here were the eyes?” He asked. She pointed over toward the sinks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hrmn. What year did you say this happened?” He asked again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“1943.” She said. The Hammer gave an appreciative whistle - he hadn’t met anyone who was alive for that year before he had come to Hogwarts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nobody missed me even when I was alive. Took them hours to find my body - I know, I was sitting there waiting for them. Olive Hornby came into the bathroom - “Are you here again, sulking, Myrtle?’ she said, ‘because Professor Dippet asked me to look for you -’ And then she saw my body…” Myrtle continued. The Hammer put down the names for Olive Hornby and one Professor Dippet. He wasn’t hopeful about Olive, but he had come across the name Armando Dippet before in the previous staff registry.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s not right, Myrtle. Nobody deserves that. Did they ever find who killed you?” Myrtle eyed him up and down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I heard people talking about how they found the student who did it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So who was it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They said his name was Hagrid - Ruby-something Hagrid. They said one of his dangerous little pets killed me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hagrid? That doesn’t make any sense, he’s a big softie. He’s… he’s a friend of mine.” Myrtle floated upside down, her pigtails hanging down with her legs kicked up into the air - it reminded the Hammer of an Audrey Hepburn pinup pose.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I only heard from students talking about the rumours. Nobody even came by to tell me about it when they were done.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did anybody ever mention </span>
  <em>
    <span>why </span>
  </em>
  <span>it was that he killed you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, the girls talked about how he lost control of one of his dangerous creatures - but then people stopped coming by to see me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did they say what kind of pet it was?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“An enormous spider.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer put his hand to his chin again - the wheels were coming apart on this story. There was a dame who had been bullied to death floating in front of him. Hagrid had taken the fall - his gut told him that. The big palooka had a penchant for big, dangerous animals but he knew how to be his own brand of careful with them. Not as careful as most people wanted him to be, but he tried. Big yellow eyes didn’t match any spider Harry had ever seen, but the Hammer didn’t have the same kind of encyclopaedic knowledge of magical creatures. Besides, didn’t spiders normally have a lot more than a handful of eyes?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Out on a lark - do you know what the Chamber of Secrets is? Or who ‘The Heir’ might be?” The Hammer continued.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmmmm. No and no.” Myrtle bounced about in front of him, “but there were rumours that people wanted to blame the Chamber of Secrets for how I died.” It didn’t help to phase out rumours if he didn’t know what the Chamber of Secrets actually was.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So what are you going to do now that I’ve told you my </span>
  <em>
    <span>dark </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>dreadful </span>
  </em>
  <span>story?” Myrtle asked eagerly, an expectant look on her face as she came back to float in front of him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m taking the case.” The Hammer told her, “I don’t like any part of what happened, and I’m going to find out what really happened to you. That’s a guarantee from this private eye.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He couldn’t tell if it was a trick of his eyes, but he was sure that Myrtle flushed to a more opaque shade of off-white.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry had come back to the office after interviewing Myrtle to gather his notes together. The Porcelain Queen’s piece of paper had expanded into a pyramid of clues but no direct connections - the only accessible witness he had to the crime was his friend Hagrid. How old did that make Hagrid? He was spry for someone who had lived most of a century. He looked at the note for ‘The Chamber of Secrets’. What was it? Where was it? He checked the Marauder’s map for it, but no such room was listed - in fact his presence in the Investigator’s office wasn’t shown on the map - which only served to highlight the fallibility of it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Out of leads and out of things to do, he was stuck with finishing his homework. The Hammer headed down to the library and found Hermione bustling between the shelves with Neville holding down the fort at their favorite desk.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s eating her?” He asked when he sat down next to his friend.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She was looking for a book, but I don’t think she’s found it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Those little </span>
  <em>
    <span>vultures</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Hermione said in exasperation when she finally came back to her seat, sulking behind an open tome.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What, uh, what are you talking about?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nobody wants to know </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span> until it’s fashionable.” She replied with a huff.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You have to give me a clue here, I’m guessing in the dark, precious.” She kicked him under the table.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wanted to get a copy of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hogwarts: A History</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Of course this would be the year I had to leave it at home. I couldn’t fit it in my trunk because of all of Professor Lockhart’s books.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What for? I don’t remember there being anything in there that was going to help us.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What for!?” She replied like he was thick, earning a shush from Madam Pince, “There were a few paragraphs in the middle about the Chamber of Secrets! It’s a big school legend, but I just can’t remember a thing about it for the life of me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can borrow my copy,” the Hammer offered, “I think it’s on a shelf in my trunk. I can give it to you later tonight once I have a chance to go look for it, but do you have your research sheet for sources to write about that ‘Medieval Assembly of European Wizards’ for History of Magic?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She handed him her short sheet bibliography, looking over to Neville who was still actively working on his own assignment with a worried look on his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry read over her shorthand before suggesting, “I think we could get some more detail if we asked Binns about it. Who knows, he might’ve been here long enough to have seen it built in.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hermione grimaced. “Getting anything from Professor Binns is like pulling your own fingernails.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Point taken.” Harry said before getting up to retrieve Hermione’s suggested reading on the subject. He’d made the habit of taking his own notes before sequestering himself away in a disused classroom with his typewriter to compose all of his written assignments. He gave Neville a sympathetic look before leaving him in Hermione’s tutelage.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The next day’s History of Magic was shaping up to be as boring as usual. Professor Binns was unique amongst the Hogwarts staff as being the only active ghost professor - and that was where the interesting parts about him ended. The story about him was that he hadn’t noticed he had died - he was like a stereotypical university professor, droning on at the front of the classroom. One day he had simply gotten up from his armchair in the staff room and left his body behind. He hadn’t varied a thing about his routine since.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The day’s class was like a squeaking wheel rolling in a well worn groove. The Professor floated in through the blackboard at his appointed time, opened his notes and began to read them in a flat drone like an old vacuum cleaner until most everyone in the class had fallen into a deep stupor, occasionally coming round long enough to copy down a name or date, then falling asleep again. He had been doing this for half an hour when something happened that had never happened before: Hermione put up her hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Professor, glancing up from a lecture on the International Warlock Convention of 1289, looked amazed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Miss -er-?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Granger, Professor. I was wondering if you could tell us about the Chamber of Secrets.” She spoke in a steady, clear voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The other Ravenclaws perked up at her question. A few Hufflepuffs turned over sheets to take fresh notes on the subject.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Professor gave a long, slow blink.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My subject is </span>
  <em>
    <span>History </span>
  </em>
  <span>of Magic,” he said in his dry rumble, “I deal with </span>
  <em>
    <span>facts,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Miss Granger, not myths and legends.” he cleared his throat with a noise like chalk snapping before he continued, “in September of that year, a sub-committee of Sardinian sorcerers-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stuttered to a halt, this time Harry’s hand was up in the air, waving side to side to ensure he saw its movement.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Isn’t it true that myths and legends are usually based on some amount of fact?” The Hammer spoke as soon as the Professor came to a halt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, yes, Mister-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Potter-Mason.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I-er, yes, one could argue that I suppose.” He looked at the two students who had interrupted him in amazement, as if no one had ever done it before. “However, the legend of which you’ve asked is such a very </span>
  <em>
    <span>sensational</span>
  </em>
  <span>, even </span>
  <em>
    <span>ludicrous</span>
  </em>
  <span> tale…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By now the whole class was hanging onto Professor Binn’s every word. He looked dimly at them all, every face turned to his. He looked unsure what to do with this much interest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, very well,” He said at a lethargic pace that matched his usual drone, “let me see - the Chamber of Secrets…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“As you know, Hogwarts was founded over a thousand years ago - the precise date is uncertain - by the four greatest witches and wizards of the age. The four school houses are named after them: Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin. They built this castle together, far from prying Muggle eyes, for it was an age when magic was feared by common people, and witches and wizards suffered much persecution.” He paused, looking round the room only to be surprised that everyone was paying perfect attention for once,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“For a few years, the founders worked in harmony together, seeking out youngsters who showed signs of magic and bringing them to the castle to receive their education. But then disagreements sprang up between them. A rift began to grow between Slytherin and the others. Slytherin wished to be more </span>
  <em>
    <span>selective</span>
  </em>
  <span> about the students admitted to Hogwarts. He believed that magical learning should be kept within all-magic families. He disliked taking students of Muggle parentage, believing them to be untrustworthy. After a while, there was a serious argument on the subject between Slytherin and Gryffindor, and Slytherin left the school.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The professor paused, pursing his lips with a look of dissatisfaction. The Hammer wrote a note to himself to talk to Helena about it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Reliable historical sources tell us this much,” the Professor continued, “but these honest facts have been obscured by the fanciful legend of the Chamber of Secrets. The story goes that Slytherin built a hidden chamber in the castle, of which the other founders knew nothing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“According to this legend, Slytherin sealed the Chamber of Secrets so that none would be able to open it until his own true heir arrived at the school. The heir alone would be able to unseal the Chamber of Secrets, unleash the horror within, and use it to purge the school of all who were unworthy to study magic.” Harry needed to get his hands on that book of Wizard genealogy again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a silence when the Professor finished telling the story, but this one was a miasma of unease that stood in stark contrast to the usual sleepy quiet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The whole thing is arrant nonsense, of course.” The Professor said, “Naturally the school has been searched for evidence of such a chamber, many times, by the most learned witches and wizards. It does not exist. It is a tale told to frighten the gullible.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Neville’s hand was in the air, surprising everyone including himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sir- what exactly do you mean by a ‘horror’ within the Chamber?’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The common belief is in some sort of monster, one which only the true heir of Slytherin can control.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The class looked nervously at each other.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I tell you, the thing does not exist.” Professor Binns said firmly before shuffling his notes, “There is no Chamber and no monster.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But sir,” Anthony Goldstein piped up, “Doesn’t it follow that if the Chamber can only be opened by Slytherin’s true heir, no one else without their power and approval </span>
  <em>
    <span>would</span>
  </em>
  <span> be able to find it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nonsense, Silverman” Professor Binns said in aggravation, “If a long succession of Hogwarts headmasters and headmistresses have found nothing-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But Professor,” Justin Finch-Fletchley spoke, “You’d probably have to use Dark Magic to open it-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just because a wizard </span>
  <em>
    <span>doesn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> use Dark Magic, doesn’t mean he can’t, Mr. Magpie-Morrison.” Binns snapped, “I repeat if the likes of Dumbledore-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What if it’s blood magic? Like you have to be related to Slytherin so-” Terry Boot began, but Professor Binns had had enough.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That will do,” he said sharply, “it is a </span>
  <b>myth</b>
  <span>! It does not exist! There is not a shred of evidence that Slytherin ever built so much as a secret broom cupboard! I regret telling you such a foolish story! We will return, if you please, to </span>
  <em>
    <span>history</span>
  </em>
  <span>, to solid, believable, verifiable </span>
  <em>
    <span>fact</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” It was the most emotion Binns had ever shown, and within five minutes of that, the class had sunk back into its usual torpor.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry mulled over the story on the way to a doubles potions class with the Gryffindors. It made sense to call up old legends of monsters and evil to cover for an attempted murder - but since he was dealing with a magical school, the legend itself might be true. Did it connect to Myrtle’s murder? The warning Dobby had given him earlier in the year? What was the monster? How did one kill said monster? What was it that made you have Slytherin’s brand of magic? How did any of that connect to Mrs. Norris? Did they attack a cat just to set an example? The answer to one question only brought up a hundred more.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ron sat down next to the Hammer in Potions class, apparently up for talking to him about the rumours and circumstances surrounding Filch’s cat and the warning written on the wall.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I always knew Salazar Slytherin was a twisted old looney,” Ron mentioned after he had been informed of the history of the Chamber. “But you don’t seem to be worried about it all, Hammer. I mean, you’re a Ravenclaw if I’ve ever seen one but you should hear some of the rumours they’ve been saying…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Talk is cheap, Ron. Besides, I’ve been working on a cold case murder here of a student.” They sifted through lionfish spines together whilst Professor Snape made the rounds to ensure that no one was going to blow up their cauldrons.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wicked.” Ron looked at him wide-eyed,“Which student?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Myrtle Warren.” Harry said, stirring the concoction in front of him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Ron stopped stirring his own, almost burning the mixture he was working on, “But the only thing she’s good for is wailing on the loo! Ginny’s told me all about her!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Have you tried talking to her?” The Hammer asked him, tuning the fire with a twist of his wand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, of course not! She lives in a girl’s lavatory! Nobody haunting a loo seems like they’re worth </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not </span>
  <em>
    <span>worth </span>
  </em>
  <span>my time? Merlin’s knickers, Ron! Myrtle was bullied so badly she became a ghost! Murdered in that lavatory and no one cared to look for hours! Now she’s in there wailing for ever! Imagine if that were Ginny. Would you care then? If there’s anyone who’s worth my time it’s people like </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> because people like </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> decide to forget about them. The real killer - the real </span>
  <em>
    <span>monster</span>
  </em>
  <span> - is still out there. I’m going to find the truth and make sure it never happens again!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ron looked at him, flabbergasted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“An impassioned speech, Mason.” Snape had heard everything the Hammer had said, stopping behind him to listen as Harry finished. The colour drained from Ron’s face. Harry turned around to look at the Professor, a fire still in his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you look carefully at the records,” Snape spoke at a volume and in a direction so only Harry could hear, “you would see that Professor Dumbledore was the Transfigurations Professor during the years Ms. Warren was a living student.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait, what, why are-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Five points from Ravenclaw for your hat. It continues to violate the uniform rules, Mason.” Snape announced before walking away from them.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was a few weeks on their schedule before they had the chance to have a doubles class with Slytherin as the last period of the day. The Hammer had workshopped Hermione’s idea before talking to Myrtle to see if she was on board. With everything in place, the only thing that stopped their plans was getting Malfoy away from his two cronies. The plan itself depended on being quick and brazen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On their way out of History of Magic, the two Ravenclaws tailed the three Slytherins to the top of the stairs, looking over the railing to see if Neville was in place. Their Hufflepuff friend stood at the bottom of the stairwell after the landing like a stone in the river. The two Ravenclaws followed Malfoy and his crew down to the landing,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Malfoy! Your epidermis is showing!” Harry yelled out, hoping that he could keep them in the shadow of the landing long enough to let the rest of the people flow by.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Malfoy looked down at his robes, quickly scanning front and then back before turning toward Harry, “No it isn’t, Potter!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crabbe and Goyle lumbered around, turning to look at them as the gears were turning visibly in their expressions. Hermione tapped Harry on the small of the back to indicate that the last of the people had passed them by. Harry tried to stand casually with his hands in his pockets, his grip tight on his wand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You might want to check again, you look ridiculous.” Harry said disparagingly, looking beyond Malfoy and seeing that Neville was in position.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t you-” Crabbe and Goyle had stepped forward, leaving Malfoy to the rear. In an instant, the three investigators yelled “Petrificus Totalus!” Sending Malfoy falling forward toward Harry and Hermione and Crabbe and Goyle backwards onto either side of Neville.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good job, Nev. You got that bag?” Harry rolled Crabbe off to the side. Neville handed him a small black bag that Hammer slipped over Malfoy’s head. Hermione relieved him of his wand and used her own to cast a quiet “Wingardium Leviosa” on Malfoy’s frozen form. Neville rolled Goyle over so he was facing the ground.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With Malfoy floating a few feet off the ground, Harry dragged his cloak of invisibility from his mokeskin pouch and draped it over him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Great, let’s go, PDQ.” Harry said to them. He took the lead with Hermione behind him next to Malfoy and Neville bringing up the rear. They walked at a brisk pace, single file, all the way to the women’s lavatory on the first floor. Myrtle stopped weeping long enough to look up and see that they had come in. The Hammer waved to her before yanking the cloak off of their captive like it was a stage magician’s trick and shoving it back into his belt pouch.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Myrtle clapped at the reveal, a smile on her face. Hermione floated Malfoy over to one of the stalls head first, positioning him over the closed toilet before she ended the spell. The Hammer cast an immediate “Incarcerous!” before Malfoy hit the seat, a set of thin metallic ropes springing forth from his wand and wrapping around the falling boy’s legs, wrists, and upper arms.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Malfoy fell onto the seat with a yelp, squirming in place whilst twisting his head around despite being unable to see. The Hammer stepped into the confines of the stall and punched Malfoy in the face through the bag once before yanking it off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Potter! You won’t get away with this!” The blonde boy yelled at them.</span>
</p>
<p><span>“I’m going to ask you this once and then I’m never going to ask you again. It’s going to get more painful from there. I’ll pull out your teeth one by one, put them back in again and then start on your tongue. What do you know about the Chamber of Secrets? Who is the heir of Slytherin? Is it you?”</span><span><br/></span> <span>The little Slytherin’s eyes widened, a visible shake overcoming him. The Hammer reached down to his pouch and called up his roll of tools, selecting a pair of pliers from inside it.</span></p>
<p>
  <span>“You-you can’t get away with this! I’ll scream! The Professors will come!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry put the roll away. “Boo hoo, Malfoy. You think people are going to come here? Nobody ever comes in here, right Myrtle?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Never ever!” She said with a hint of glee above Harry, floating upside down, pigtails hanging toward the floor on either side of the Hammer’s hat. “Turn on the waterworks, sister. That’ll keep everyone out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Myrtle drew in a deep, laborious breath before exhaling it in a profound sob. She kept on going as she drifted over to her usual stall. Malfoy’s eyes bugged out of his head as Harry grabbed his chin and brought the pliers up toward his mouth with the other hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’ know anyfing!” Malfoy cried as soon as the metal tips of the pliers clamped down onto his front incisor. Harry pushed, raising an eyebrow as the first tear came down Draco’s cheek, “I don’ know anyfing!” The Hammer removed the pliers, “The Chamber of Secrets is a legend! My dad just told me about the powers of Slytherin’s heir! I don’t know who it could be or what the monster is! My dad’s just been selling the dark artifacts in our house to Borgin and Burkes because that traitor Weasley is raiding other pure blood families! I don’t even get to go home this holiday because of him!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Harry! What are you doing?” Hermione had peeked into the stall over his shoulder, her hand grabbing onto his upper arm before trying to wrest the pliers away from him. The Hammer let her drag his arm back, forcing the angle downward and dumping the tool into his belt pouch with a slurp from the bag.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was putting the heat on him, he started talking too if you hadn’t just interrupted.” Malfoy was crying now, out of time with Myrtle’s own weeping. It really was the perfect cover.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright! Fine!” Harry pulled out his wand and held it up to Draco’s cheek, though he distinctly didn’t know how this could be any better than what he had been doing before.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What did you mean when you threatened ‘mudbloods’?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They-they don’t deserve to be at this school. Dirty blooded freaks making our-” The Hammer cut him off by jabbing the tip of his wand into the hollow of Draco’s throat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Great. You’re not an evil dark wizard, you’re just racist. Or magicist. Or whatever the hell this is called.” The Hammer spoke whilst Malfoy coughed. Hermione dragged Harry away from him before he could do anything else and began batting Harry with her hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No! You can’t do this to him, Harry! This is wrong!” She chastised him. Neville turned his head to look, but kept his watch at the crack in the door to make sure no one was coming - so far so good. Myrtle’s crying had covered for them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry held up his hands to block her hits, “Jeez, what are we supposed to do? Just ask him nicely? What did you expect to happen after we got him into this room anyway?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She stopped hitting him, anger still in her eyes as she looked between Harry and Draco, trying to decide what it was she wanted to do with them both. Malfoy glared at her with a simmering hatred, spitting toward her onto the already damp floor, “I don’t need </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> help, mudblood.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry had recovered enough to reorient himself to go give Malfoy more abuse, but Hermione pushed him away, walking up to their captive in the claustrophobic stall herself. The sound of a loud slap died against the stones of the lavatory a moment later.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hermione stepped out of the stall, her expression absolutely serene. “He doesn’t know anything Harry. He just opened his big mouth to cause trouble. I say we let him go.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer took a step back before turning his head toward Neville, “Anybody out there?’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No - wait - someone’s coming down the hall. It’s that Gryffindor boy’s prefect. Percinald or whatever his name is. The Weasley one.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, the stick in the mud.” The Hammer took a quick moment to think before going back into the stall. There was a large red handprint on Malfoy’s cheek still. “Tsch. You’re not much of a nemesis, are you, Malfoy? Episkey.” Harry touched his wand to the mark and it faded immediately. Once the quick fix was done, he dragged Malfoy to his feet and shoved him toward the door, removing his leg bindings as he went.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Slytherin stumbled forward, mostly falling his way out as Neville opened the door to let him pass, Harry ending the rest of his incantation as Malfoy disappeared out into the hall, throwing Draco’s wand after him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You!” Percy’s voice rang out from the hall. Harry leaned up against the door next to Neville in case someone tried to make a hasty entrance.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I-” Malfoy fumbled about with his words.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s a girl’s bathroom! What were you </span>
  <em>
    <span>doing</span>
  </em>
  <span>…?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Potter, he-!” Malfoy stuttered out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, no. You’re not blaming anyone else. 15 points from Slytherin and you’re coming with me! We’ll have a chat with your head of house!” The sound of a small struggle ensued as their argument faded down the hall.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think we’re clear.” Hermione said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sounds good to me.” Harry said, turning back to Myrtle, who had stopped crying to listen to the ruckus with them. “Thanks, doll. I’ll let you know what else I find.” he tipped his hat to her before disappearing out the door with Neville and Hermione.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>A week later, there was a small knot of people gathered around a noticeboard outside the Great Hall. “Hammer! Come take a look at this!” Michael Corner and Terry Boot called him over with Hermione and Neville as they came out from lunch.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They’re starting a Duelling Club!” Michael told them, “First meeting is tonight! I wouldn’t mind learning how to duel, I hear there’s quite a bit of finesse involved.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That does sound useful. What do you say we check it out?” Harry said to his friends. Hermione checked her schedule, finding that it wouldn’t interfere with any of their other obligations, she agreed wholeheartedly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That night at eight o’clock, they hurried back to the Great Hall. The long dining tables had vanished and a golden stage had appeared along one wall, lit by thousands of candles floating overhead. The ceiling was black velvet again and most of the school seemed to be crammed in beneath it, all carrying their wands with excited expressions.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wonder who the instructors will be,” Hermione said as they tried to get closer to the stage, “someone mentioned that Professor Flitwick was a duelling champion when he was younger.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m game for learning how to fight with magic, so long as it’s not-” Harry’s hopes were dashed immediately as Gilderoy Lockhart took to the stage, his robes a resplendent shade of deep plum accompanied by Professor Snape in his usual black. Harry’s mood perked up again when Professor Longbaugh walked on shortly after, spurs jingling with his steps.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lockhart waved an arm for silence and called, “Gather round, gather round! Can everyone see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent! Now, after a little bit of encouragement from my American colleague,” he gave a very short wave toward Professor Longbaugh punctuated with one of his signature blinding smiles. Harry bet Longbaugh had come up with the idea, “I have obtained Professor Dumbledore’s permission to start this Duelling Club to train you all up in case you ever need to defend yourselves as I myself have done on countless occasions - for full details, see my published works.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let me introduce you to my assistants today: Professor Snape and Professor Longbaugh. Professor Snape has told me he knows a tiny little bit about duelling himself and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin. Afterward, Professor Longbaugh has agreed to help demonstrate a bit of the American style! Won’t that be exciting? Now, I don’t want any of you youngsters to worry - you’ll still have your Potions Master and Muggle Studies Professor when I’m through with them, never fear! And I’m sure while the style of our Isles will stand strong, I’m sure our guest Professor will stand to learn from it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Snape’s upper lip was curling. The Hammer knew Lockhart probably hadn’t even noticed. Longbaugh rolled his eyes and stood with both hands resting on his belt buckle, scooting a few steps to the side whilst Lockhart and Snape faced each other and bowed, roughly centered on the stage like a fencing match was about to begin. The Hammer began making his way forward to the edge of the stage. He didn’t have much hope about the first demonstration, but he wanted to see the tricks Longbaugh had up his sleeve.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The two participants raised their wands like swords before them, presenting arms,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“As you can see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combative position,” Lockhart told the silent crowd, “on the count of three we will cast our first spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“One -  two - three”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Both swung their wands up and over their shoulders. Snape cried, “Expelliarmus!” There was a dazzling flash of scarlet light and Lockhart was pushed off his feet, flying backwards off his end of the stage and smashing into the wall before sliding down to a sprawl on the floor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lockhart staggered to his feet while Longbaugh traded places with Snape. Professor Lockhart’s hat had fallen off and his wavy hair was standing on end.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, there you have it!” He announced as he stumbled his way back into position, “that was a Disarming Charm, as you see. I’ve lost my wand - ah, thank you, Miss Brown. Yes, an excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape, but if you don’t mind my saying so, it was very obvious what you were about to do. If I had wanted to stop you it would have been only too easy. However, I felt it would be instructive to let them see…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Snape’s expression was murderous. Lockhart had probably noticed, instead switching over to, “That brings us to Professor Longbaugh’s demonstration - are you ready?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“One moment, Gilderoy.” Longbaugh told him, removing his gun belt with his revolver and setting it down on one side of the stage, “No one touch that.” He provided stern instructions to the crowd before removing his hat and walking over to where Harry was eagerly waiting on the edge of the stage.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hold this for me, Bogart.” He said to the Hammer as he handed it to the boy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You got it, Sundance.” Harry replied, feeling a tingle of magic come in through his fingers and up his arm as he took hold of the cowboy hat’s brim.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Longbaugh drew out his wand and faced Lockhart, who had been trying to make his hair behave again. Both raised their wands to the ready position like the standard salute, but instead of moving his wand up and back, Longbaugh changed his footing into a bladed stance with his left foot forward, his other arm coming up to guard like a boxer. When Lockhart finished his countdown and began to swing his own wand to cast something, Longbaugh turned his own wand to his chest with a cry of “Cantus Bellax!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the next moment Lockhart had gone flying again, but Longbaugh now occupied the position on the stage where he had been standing. Professor Lockhart slammed into the wall with a much harder noise, sliding to the floor amidst the horrified murmurs of the crowd. A little smile crept up the side of Snape’s face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you think he’s ok!?” Hermione gasped. The Hammer snorted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Longbaugh held his stance for a moment, elbow forward, showing the strike he had just performed before standing back up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You alright there, Gilderoy?” He asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” Lockhart coughed, “Just fine.” He said with a strained voice. An older year Hufflepuff helped him to his feet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I did clearly state that we wouldn’t be aiming to kill.” Lockhart said, returning toward the stage.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, are ya dead?” Longbaugh replied.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I do believe you will have to clarify your methods. Your technique is somewhat… unorthodox.” Professor Snape spoke up for the first time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Longbaugh gave a short cough before picking up his gun belt and putting it back on. Afterward, he walked over to Harry and took his hat and put that back on.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So duelling is all well and good,” Longbaugh began, “But time and again the only lesson that seems to be taught when a fight happens is that even with magic, it’s still a fight. It’s messy, unpredictable, and bereft of rules. Correct me if I’m wrong, Professor.” He looked at Snape. The latter remained impassive.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So don’t expect your enemies to come up, bow, and salute. That’s the first lesson. They’re going to sucker punch you in dark corridors so you don’t have the time to fight back.” Longbaugh looked directly at Harry.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The spell I used is a low level self-augmentation. The incantation is ‘Cantus Bellax’. What it will do is improve your speed and your power output - what I just did there was dash forward and put my elbow into Professor Lockhart’s chest.” he continued.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And it wasn’t terribly sporting or wizardlike.” Lockhart interjected.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you expect a thunderbird or a mountain troll to be sporting and polite? What about that Voldemort guy?” A collective gasp happened again, “Oh right, sorry folks. But I mean it. The major downside of this spell is that it taxes your stamina. Whatever you use to do what you need to do is going to have to be paid off at the end. If you’re not physically fit enough to sustain it with your own stamina or magic there is a very real chance you might pass out when the spell stops.” Longbaugh began to pace the stage, his spurs setting the tone with the heaviness of his steps.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Anyway, I’ve requested some practise dummies and have prepared these - “ Lockhart cut him off with a wave of his wand, summoning more long, thin duelling areas about a quarter of the stage’s size spaced about the Great Hall, whilst the stage itself shrank to match. Once the stages had finished arranging themselves, training dummies popped out of the floor, some of them clearly marked with the sport department’s lettering. Harry wondered what use they were for quidditch - those seemed to be the only games he ever heard were happening.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Duelling areas with appropriate training dummies to practise your offensive magic on. Please queue up and a Professor will be walking between the rows to assist with your instruction. Remember only disarming spells during this time!” Lockhart finished, still running a hand through his disheveled hair to try and tame it back into its previously coiffed position. A general rustle sounded as students jumped in line to the closest duelling area they could find. The Hammer tried to move quickly, but found himself a few people down the queue.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can leave the stage once you’ve successfully won your duel!” Professor Longbaugh called out from the shrunken instructor’s stand, “The winning condition is currently the equivalent of disarmament or unconsciousness!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In front of Harry, the first student hopped onto the duelling stand and took position, raising his wand in the salute demonstrated. The dormant training dummy perked up immediately, raising a mechanical arm holding a length of wood to return the salute. A disembodied voice that sounded suspiciously like Lockhart began to count, “Three - Two - One!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Expelliarmus!” The student in the hot seat cried, sending out a flash of red light that sent the stand-in wand flying out of the dummy’s hand. A glint of reflection showed its mechanism - a long thin bit of wire that kept the wand attached to the robot’s hand began to reel it back in after the dummy slumped forward to indicate a winning condition.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good show! You’ve won! For more advice on duelling refer to </span>
  <em>
    <span>Marauding with Monsters</span>
  </em>
  <span>” The Lockhart recorded voice declared.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer’s heart leapt, his eyes gleaming. He couldn’t wait to try it out. When it was finally Harry’s turn, he put his hat into his mokeskin pouch and vaulted up onto the stage with his own excited heartbeat in his ears. Raising his wand into the salute, he kept his eyes on the dummy as it did the same. Emulating Longbaugh, Harry slid his left foot forward and his right foot back, raising his left arm to guard whilst keeping the wand in his right pointed toward the training dummy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Three-” Lockhart’s voice emanated from the dummy, “Two - One!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cantus Bellax!” Harry cried, touching the tip of his wand to his chest. Everything felt like it was on fire. The Hammer could feel every fibre of his being burning with rampant magical energy - the double quick pounding of his heart playing the rhythm of war drums deep inside his soul. He was light as a feather and felt like he could strike as wild lightning. With a grin, Harry dashed forward and did what came naturally - a left hook to the dummy’s head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The training aid toppled immediately, end over end off the stage with a crash. Ending the spell, everything drained out of him. Harry fell down to one knee, bent over supporting his suddenly extremely heavy weight with one trembling arm whilst the other gripped his wand. He heaved for breath while his double vision took the time to level itself out. The dummy reset itself from the floor and glided neatly back into position, playing the recording, “Good show!” It started, but then skipped - “Good show! Good -'' It kept repeating it as the dummy woke again. It rolled up toward a helpless Harry and raised a great iron arm above him before swinging it down with deadly precision.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer barely managed to raise his left arm in time to intercept the blow, the sickening crack that came out of it telling him that it had broken the bone. The Hammer howled in animalistic pain, his cry cut off with Longbaugh yelling “Reducto!” and a blinding flash of blue light reducing the offending dummy to nothing but a fine mist.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry keeled over, still exhausted and now in excruciating pain, doing his best to keep calm. “Are you OK, Harry?” Longbaugh asked as he began to wade through the crowd of students. Lockhart beat him to it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t worry, everyone! Just a simple broken arm! No problem at all!” Lockhart announced with his usual showmanship as he vaulted his way up next to Harry.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh no, not you.” The Hammer said through gritted teeth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Doesn’t know what he’s saying,” Lockhart said loudly, “The pain must be immense. Not to worry, Harry, I’m about to fix your arm.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck off, I’ll get a cast.” Harry said, trying to sit up. He was too exhausted to do anything. There was a familiar clicking noise nearby.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Damnit, Colin! Now’s not the time!.” The Hammer was forced to redirect his attention.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lie back, Harry.” Lockhart tried to be soothing, “It’s a simple charm I’ve used countless times.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I want a second opinion, let me go to Pomfrey.” Harry seethed out the words.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe he should, Gilderoy.” Longbaugh had made it to the stage.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stand back,” Lockhart announced with gusto as he rolled up his sleeves.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No - you son of -” Harry kept trying to resist, but Lockhart was twirling his wand and a second later pointed it straight at Harry’s arm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A strange and unpleasant sensation started at Harry’s shoulder and spread all the way down to his fingertips. It felt as though his arm was being deflated. The Hammer screwed his eyes shut and rode the wave, trying his best to ignore what it was. His worst fears came with Colin Creevey clicking away madly as the crowd around them gasped. His arm didn’t hurt anymore, but the sensation didn’t feel anything like it did before.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What the hell, Gilderoy.” Longbaugh said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah,” Lockhart said, “Yes, well, that can sometimes happen. But the point is, the bones are no longer broken. That’s the thing to bear in mind. So, Harry, just toddle up to the Hospital Wing. Ah, Professor, would you mind escorting him? I’m sure Madam Pomfrey will be glad to put the finishing touches on it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Longbaugh reached down and helped Harry to his feet - a strange lopsided feeling to the whole event overriding his natural instinct with morbid curiosity. The Hammer steeled himself and looked down at the offending arm. What he saw made him almost want to cast Cantus Bellax again and have a go at Lockhart.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The end of his robes had a fleshy glove sticking out of it. Harry tried to move his fingers, but nothing happened. Lockhart hadn’t fixed the break - he had removed all the bones.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>**</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Madam Pomfrey was less than pleased about it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You should have come straight to me about it!” She raged as she examined the sad, fleshy remainder of Harry’s arm, “I can mend bones with little effort - but growing them back…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can do that, can’t you?” The Hammer felt a tug in his stomach as he thought about prostheses and what colour he would want his to be.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Certainly, but the procedure will be very painful.” Madam Pomfrey replied grimly, tossing Harry a pair of pyjamas, “you'll need to remain the night.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ouch.” Professor Longbaugh commented, “I guess it happens to the best of us, kid.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Having an idiot solve a problem he’s not qualified for?” The Hammer shot back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Harry, that’s the definition of government, but yeah.” Harry’s arm swung uselessly at his side as he climbed into bed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Seriously, Professor, how is it that that guy is qualified for anything?” The Hammer asked him, but Madam Pomfrey came round the curtain holding a large bottle labeled “Skele-Gro”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re in for a rough night,” she said, pouring out a steaming beaker full of opaque liquid and handing it to him, “Regrowing bones is a nasty business.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So was taking the Skele-Gro. It burned on its way down and left an aftertaste like someone had left a melon to ferment in the open sun for a few days. Longbaugh poured him some water before patting him on the good shoulder and disappearing around the privacy screen with Madam Pomfrey. A moment later Neville and Hermione came in with sweets and a few bottles of Harry’s favourite cola, coming in to commiserate about the night’s events.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Still think he’s perfect and knowledgeable?” Harry asked Hermione, taking a bite of the cake she had brought.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Anyone can make a mistake,” she replied, “And it doesn’t hurt anymore, does it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure, there’s no pain, but there’s nothing else, either.” He drank down some of the pop with a miserable look on his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But, I saw what you did, Hammer! That was impressive using that spell Professor Longbaugh did, how was it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry took a deep breath before breaking out into a yawn, “Tiring, Nev. It was amazing, but then when I stopped it all just sort of drained out of me and it felt… exhausting.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Madam Pomfrey came by and ushered out his two friends a little while later - Hermione leaving him with the book she had brought: a copy of “The Secret Adversary”, an Agatha Christie mystery she had talked about over summer but he hadn’t found time to read.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>**</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At first, the Hammer thought the pain of regrowing his bones had woken him in the dark - a sensation like a million little needles had been jammed into his limp arm from the inside out. Then the realization came that someone was sponging his forehead with a warm towel. He reached his good arm up and felt for the hand, finding strange bony fingers there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As his eyes adjusted, he could see large, tennis-ball sized eyes peering at him, a tear running down their owner’s cheek.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Dobby.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” The Hammer recognized him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Harry Potter came back to school,” the house elf whispered a lamentation, “Dobby warned and warned Harry Potter. Ah, sir, why didn’t you heed Dobby? Why didn’t Harry Potter go back home when he missed the train?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry crawled up onto his pillows to a sitting position with his good arm, pushing the elf’s hand away from its ministrations.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My full name’s Potter-Mason, you know. I like my dad’s name. I had my suspicions - you were the one who broke the barrier to the platform, weren’t you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dobby nodded his head vigorously, his ears flapping. “Dobby hid and watched for Harry Potter-Mason and sealed the gateway and Dobby had to iron his hands afterward-” he showed Harry ten, long, bandaged fingers, “-but Dobby didn’t care, sir. For he thought Harry Potter-Mason was safe, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> did Dobby dream that Harry Potter-Mason would find a way to school through the </span>
  <em>
    <span>ministry</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The pint sized elf was rocking back and forth, shaking his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dobby was so shocked when he heard Harry Potter-Mason was back at Hogwarts, he let his master’s dinner burn! Such a flogging Dobby never had, sir…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer eyed his well-meaning interloper. Dobby blew his wretched nose into a corner of the filthy pillowcase he wore.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is there a reason you wear a pillowcase and not regular clothes?” The Hammer asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This, sir?” Dobby plucked at the edge of the pillowcase, “‘Tis the mark of a house-elf’s enslavement, sir. Dobby can only be freed if his masters present him with clothes, sir. The family is careful not to pass Dobby even a sock, sir, for then he would be free to leave their house for ever.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The elf moped, his eyes bulging, “Harry Potter-Mason </span>
  <em>
    <span>must</span>
  </em>
  <span> go home! Dobby thought his dummy would be enough to make-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You rigged that dummy, too?” The Hammer asked, his voice rising, “What were you thinking, trying to make that dummy murder me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not murder, sir! </span>
  <em>
    <span>Never</span>
  </em>
  <span> murder you!” Dobby sounded shocked, “Dobby wants to save Harry Potter-Mason’s life! Better to be sent home grievously injured than remain here, sir! Dobby only wanted Harry Potter-Mason hurt enough to be sent home!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer sighed, Dobby was just adding more noise to the signal he wanted to suss out. “Don’t suppose you care to share why you’re trying to send me home maimed and abused?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah! If Harry Potter-Mason only knew!” Dobby wailed, more tears dripping onto his ragged pillowcase, “If he knew what he means to us, to the lowly, the enslaved, us dregs of the magical world! Dobby remembers how it was when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was at the height of his powers, sir! We house-elves were treated like vermin, sir! Of course, Dobby is still treated like that, sir,” he admitted, drying his face on the pillowcase, “But mostly, sir, life has improved for my kind since you triumphed over He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Harry Potter-Mason survived, and the Dark Lord’s power was broken, and it was a new dawn, sir, and Harry Potter-Mason shone like a beacon of hope for those of us who thought those dark days would never end, sir…” Harry grimaced at the adulation, he never in his life wanted to be considered a hero, much less a savior and an icon, “And now, at Hogwarts, terrible things are to happen, are perhaps happening already, and Dobby cannot let Harry Potter-Mason stay here now that history is to repeat itself, now that the Chamber of Secrets is open once more-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dobby froze, horror-struck, then grabbed Harry’s water jug from his bedside table and cracked it over his own head, toppling out of sight. A second later, he crawled back onto the bed, cross-eyed, muttering, “Bad Dobby, very bad Dobby…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you know about the Chamber, Dobby? Does this connect to the Myrtle Warren case? Who opened it before?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer reached out and grabbed Dobby’s skinny wrist, shaking the little elf as Dobby reached for the water jug again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not a muggleborn, how am I supposed to be in danger from the monster?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, sir, ask no more, ask no more of poor Dobby.” Dobby stammered, his eyes enormous in the dark, “Dark deeds are planned in this place but Harry Potter-Mason must not be here when they happen. Go home, Harry Potter-Mason. Go home. Harry Potter-Mason must not meddle in this sir, ‘tis too dangerous-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I decide what’s too dangerous for me, Dobby. Tell me who it is.” Harry asked, keeping a firm hold to control Dobby’s arm, “Who opened it? Who opened it last time? How do you open it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dobby can’t sir, Dobby can’t, Dobby mustn’t tell!” he squealed, “Go home, Harry Potter-Mason, go home!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Damn it, Dobby, I’m not going anywhere. Hermione’s a muggleborn and I’ll be damned if I let some snakehouse savage get to her.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Harry Potter-Mason risks his own life for his friends!” Dobby moaned like an elf possessed, “So noble! So valiant! But he must save himself, he must, Harry Potter-Mason must not-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dobby froze, his bat ears quivering in recoil. Harry had heard it too - footsteps coming down the passageway outside.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dobby must go!” the elf spoke, terrified; there was a loud crack and Harry’s fist was suddenly clenched on thin air. The Hammer slumped back into bed, keeping his eyes on the door to the hospital wing as the footsteps drew nearer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the next moment, Dumbledore was backing into the dormitory, wearing a long wooly dressing gown and a nightcap. He was carrying one end of what looked like a statue. Professor McGonagall appeared a second later, carrying its feet. Together, they heaved it onto a bed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Get Madam Pomfrey,” Dumbledore whispered, and Professor McGonagall hurried past the end of Harry's bed out of sight. The Hammer slowed down his breathing and kept still. Urgent voices came from somewhere before Professor McGonagall swept back into view with Madam Pomfrey in her wake, the latter pulling on a dark coloured cardigan over her nightdress. Someone took in a sharp breath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What happened?” Madam Pomfrey whispered to the Chief, bending over the statue on the bed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Another attack,” Dumbledore replied, “Minerva found him on the stairs.”</span>
</p>
<p><span>“There was a bunch of grapes next to him,” Professor McGonagall said, “We think he was trying to sneak up here to visit Mason.”</span><span><br/></span> <span>A pang of guilt was a hot knife going through the Hammer’s gut. Harry lifted himself a few meagre inches to look at the figure on the bed. A ray of cold moonlight lay across its staring face.</span></p>
<p>
  <span>It was Colin Creevey, his eyes wide and hands stuck in front of him, holding his camera. The kid had just wanted to see him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Petrified?” Madam Pomfrey whispered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” Professor McGonagall said, “But I shudder to think… if Albus hadn’t been on the way downstairs for hot chocolate, who knows what might have…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The three adults stared down at Colin. Dumbledore leaned forward and prised the camera out of Colin’s rigid grip.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t think he managed to get a picture of his attacker?” Professor McGonagall perked up at the thought.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Chief didn’t answer, only popping open the back of the camera.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good gracious!” Madam Pomfrey said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A jet of steam had hissed out of the camera. Harry, three beds away, caught the acrid smell of burnt celluloids.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Melted.” Madam Pomfrey said, “All melted…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What does this </span>
  <em>
    <span>mean</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Albus?” Professor McGonagall asked urgently.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It means,” said Dumbledore, “that the Chamber of Secrets is indeed open again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Madam Pomfrey clapped a hand to her mouth. Professor McGonagall stared at Dumbledore.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But Albus… surely… who?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The question is not who,” said Dumbledore, his eyes on Colin, “The question is, </span>
  <em>
    <span>how</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>From what Harry could see of Professor McGonagall’s shadowy face, she didn’t understand it any better than he did.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer waited them out with bated breath - after pulling the blanket clumsily up to under Colin’s armpits, Madam Pomfrey left with the Chief and Professor McGonagall. In his newfound solitude, Harry grasped for his wand amongst his things and dragged himself out of bed, his damaged arm screaming in little jolts of pain, though it had stopped flapping about like overcooked pasta.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He lit his wand over Colin’s frozen from - his expression looked half way between terrified and that one of awestruck wonder he always had. Turning on Tenebrosus, Harry examined him for anything that might’ve been out of the ordinary, any evidence that would’ve pointed toward the source of the petrification. The Chief had taken Creevey’s camera with him when he had left the room, limiting Harry’s search to Colin’s physical form. It was strange, seeing his junior petrified. It wasn’t like Filch’s cat, frozen in awestruck feline bristling. Whatever magic had been used had also locked Creevey’s clothes into position too - his robes were still rippling part way in a step he never took and the fabric on his arms hung down with gravity that wasn’t there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Unable to find anything useful, the Hammer went back to bed. There was more to the case and with the evidence provided, he was convinced that the Chief and all the rest of the adults were asking the wrong questions. Who knew what evil lurks in the hearts of men? The Hammer could take a fair guess.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Harry woke the next day feeling mostly unrested, but closer to normal than he had after Lockhart’s attempt at treatment. Testing his arm, he found it stiff, but functional. Colin’s bed had been blocked off from view by high curtains. Seeing that he was awake, Madam Pomfrey came bustling over with a breakfast tray and began bending and stretching his arm and fingers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“All in order,” she said as Harry fed himself awkwardly with one arm, “When you’ve finished eating, you may leave.” The Hammer thanked her after swallowing a mouthful of porridge.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry checked his watch and saw that it was time for a Muggle Culture Club meeting - one of the few they had managed to schedule that hadn’t happened when he and his friends were working a case. Harry got dressed as fast as he could and hightailed it down to the Muggle Studies Classroom, finding that while he heard activity from inside the room, there wasn’t as much volume to it as usual. Hermione greeted him as soon as he walked in the door, causing a ripple from the other attendees. For what little attendance there was, most everyone seemed to shrink from his presence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Harry! You’re already up and about! How’s your arm?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not bad, a little stiff though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the corner, he noticed Neville was sitting transfixed next to a gramophone playing a vinyl of a song by Queen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Enjoying yourself, Nev?” Harry put a hand on his friend’s shoulder to get his attention.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Neville gave a small start, “Oh, yeah, Hammer!” he turned back to the music a moment, “Have you heard this Freddie Mercury guy?” Harry nodded, a grin on his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t believe he’s a Muggle, Hammer. I’d swear his voice is </span>
  <em>
    <span>magical</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Welcome to the club, Nev. Welcome to the club.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Turning to look at the rest of the room, the Hammer noticed that everyone else had continued with the activities they had been doing - watching a taped show, discussing football over Muggle newspapers, or looking at some of the disassembled Muggle technology, but every now and again the others would give him a furtive glance like they were worried he would attack them or something.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A short whistle sounded, drawing Harry’s attention up to the professor’s desk.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Harry, come here.” Professor Longbaugh called him over.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s going on, Professor?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wanted to see how you were doing. How’s your arm?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry waved it, wriggling his fingers and bending a few times at the elbow and wrist, “A little stiff still, but I’m alright. Who set up those dummies?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Professor Lockhart, he wanted to make sure every single one of them had that cheesy voice recording he did. Are you saying it malfunctioned on you because of his oversight?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, no,” Harry waved both of his hands to dismiss the thought, “I think everyone knows he couldn’t pull off anything like that - but I’ve got a couple lines of questions if you’ll bear with me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Professor leaned back in his seat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know if anyone told you - but when I showed up here that first night, I told Professor McGonagall that someone had warned me of an evil plan which was going to happen this year. I think this is it. The whole dark plans of evil wizards and this Chamber of Secrets thing is all coming together now and I’m telling you, Professor, I’ve got it on good authority that all of this is meant to come after me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That would make some sense - at least it’d put your problems into context, but that doesn’t explain all this Chamber of Secrets nonsense. I barely know what it is since I’ve never read up on it, but the attacks and accidents just have the rest of the kids spooked. They’re panicking but nobody’s dead yet so it’s all just rumours abound.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Professor, please! Someone’s out to get me! You have to believe me! You’re the only one who might.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Harry, I believe you. My problem is that I can’t do anything about it from the position I’m at. I’ve heard two separate rumours today about how the Chamber’s monster is targeting you and then another one that a student said about how you were actively hunting Muggleborns using said monster.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s crazy! My best friend is a Muggleborn!” Harry pointed over to Hermione, who was next to Neville browsing the vinyls.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You think I don’t know that? Listen, kid, I want to help you, but I have to worry about everything else in the school and what the headmaster has to say about it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I bet he’s giving you the party line. Nothing to worry about for now since nobody’s really  been hurt.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, actually. He’s deeply worried, but he’s confused as to the means and the real motivation behind it. Ever since last night he canceled his appointments and he’s been requesting books from the restricted section of the library up to his office.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer grumbled. There had to be more to it. He wanted to talk to the Chief again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“One other thing.” Harry spoke up, changing the subject.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shoot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lockhart. Is he as much of a vainglorious idiot with you and the staff as he is with us?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Harry, it’s impolite to insult your seniors. Especially the teaching staff.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just level with me here, Professor, you’re the only one that seems to give any straight answers.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Longbaugh checked the room and sighed, “Yeah. He’s an idiot. I don’t know how he’s a teacher here much less so damn famous from all the stuff he’s claimed to have done. He’s a top rate showman but a less than mediocre wizard.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks, Professor.” Harry left with a small wave, and a few more things to ponder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, hello, Harry the Hammer.” Harry looked up to see that Luna Lovegood had walked in the door, the spaced out smile she had on her face a signature greeting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hi, Luna. How’re you? Wait a sec, lemme tell Nev you’re here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Neville!” Harry called his friend. Neville turned around to look and immediately flushed a shade of pink as Harry approached with Luna in tow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A week later and the news of Colin Creevey’s attack had spread through the entire school and then some. Rumours built on rumour, fueling suspicions. The first years had started moving around the castle in tight-knit groups, as though scared they would be attacked if they ventured forth alone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the underground, Harry heard from the Weasley twins that a pop up economy of talismans, amulets, and other protective devices was sweeping the school. Neville had almost bought one when Harry reminded him of his pure-blood status. Hermione had redoubled her efforts - disappearing almost entirely behind her overdue collection of library books, reading through them as fast as she could to try and find all the potential causes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The next meeting of the Duelling Club was even more packed. Everyone wanted to be prepared to defend themselves in case whatever it was came for them next. Longbaugh and Snape had shown up as last time, but Lockhart came fumbling in a few minutes late, his enthusiasm for the venture noticeably diminished. Harry guessed it was a result of his previous demonstrations.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ll go ahead and switch to live partners this time from the start, shall we?” Lockhart spoke to them with a strained smile, “The other Professors and I will go ahead and begin pairing you and assigning a spot on the stage.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lockhart somehow managed to get to Neville first, pairing him off with Justin Finch-Fletchley, but Snape made a beeline for the Hammer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Time to split up the dream team, I think,” he sneered, “Granger go with Miss Bulstrode. Mr. Malfoy, come over here. Let’s see what you can make of the famous Potter-Mason.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry gave Snape a look that read “</span>
  <em>
    <span>are you kidding?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> but the latter merely smiled coldly before turning away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Malfoy strutted over, doing his best to appear confident.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m going to get you for what you did, Potter.” he said before Lockhart announced,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Face your partners!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer didn’t have time to reply, instead taking up his position on their platform.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And bow!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The two barely dipped their heads, glaring at each other and not breaking eye contact.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wands at the ready!” Lockhart shouted, “When I count to three, cast your charms to disarm your opponent - </span>
  <em>
    <span>only</span>
  </em>
  <span> to disarm them - we don’t want any more accidents. One… Two… Three…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer moved his wand in a tight arc to cast, but Malfoy had already begun on the count of ‘two’. His spell hit Harry hard enough he felt like he had been hit over the head with a brick. The Hammer stumbled a moment but responded immediately after with “Rictusempra!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A jet of silver light hit Malfoy in the stomach and he doubled up, wheezing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I said disarm only!” Lockhart shouted in alarm over the heads of the battling crowd as Malfoy sank to his knees; the Hammer had hit him with a tickling charm and he could barely move for laughing. “Flipendo!” Harry hit him with another one just to make sure. Malfoy flipped over onto his back and kept on laughing. Harry paused to enjoy the fruits of his labour only to have Malfoy struggle out a “Tarantallegra!” and the next second the Hammer’s legs had begun to jerk about in a kind of quickstep.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stop! Stop!” Lockhart screamed, but Snape took charge.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Finite Incantatem!” He shouted; Harry’s feet stopped dancing and Malfoy stopped laughing. The two glared another moment at each other before surveying their surroundings.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A haze of greenish smoke was covering everything. Both Neville and Justin were lying on the floor panting; Harry caught Ron, whose robes were singed, holding an ashen faced Seamus and apologizing, but the Hammer felt a little bloom of pride when he saw Hermione still hitting Millicent Bulstrode in the nose with her fist despite the larger girl having her in a headlock, both their wands forgotten on the floor. The Hammer leapt off his position and grabbed a handful of Millicent’s hair at the root and pulled, forcing her to let go of Hermione.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dear, dear,” said Lockhart, skittering about the crowd, looking at the aftermath of the duels. “Up, up Macmillan… careful there, Miss Fawcet… pinch it hard, it’ll stop bleeding in a second, Boot…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think you should probably start with how to block and deflect incoming magic.” Longbaugh suggested over the chaos as he applied minor healing spells to those who looked like they needed it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“An excellent idea! Let’s have a volunteer pair, Longbottom and Finch-Fletchley, how about you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A bad idea, Professor Lockhart,” Snape interjected, gliding over like a large and malevolent bat, “Longbottom causes devastation with the simplest spells. We’ll be sending what’s left of Finch-Fletchley up to the hospital wing in a matchbox.” Neville’s round pink face went pinker. The Hammer wanted to speak up on it until Snape finished with, “How about Malfoy and Mason?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A superb idea!” Lockhart announced, gesturing Harry and Malfoy into the middle of the Hall as the crowd backed away to give them room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Now, Harry,” Lockhart said, “When Draco points his wand at you, do </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He raised his own wand, attempted a complicated sort of wiggling action and dropped it. Snape smirked as Lockhart quickly picked it up, saying “Whoops - my wand is a little over-excited.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just focus some magic into the wand and bat the spell away like it’s tennis.” Longbaugh yelled without looking up from his ministrations on an injured student.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Snape gave a sidelong glance to the junior professor before moving next to Malfoy and whispering something in his ear. Malfoy smirked. The Hammer switched his stance to Longabugh’s fighting blade.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Scared?” Malfoy muttered so Lockhart couldn’t hear him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not on your life.” Harry spoke out of the corner of his mouth as he removed his hat and put it into his pouch.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lockhart cuffed Harry merrily on the shoulder, “Just be sure to do what I did, Harry!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Look like an idiot?” the Hammer muttered to himself as he returned to facing Malfoy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Three - two - one - go!” Lockhart gave the countdown.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Malfoy raised his wand and bellowed, “Serpensortia!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer ducked down to cover himself when the end of Malfoy’s wand exploded. A long, black snake shot out of it and fell heavily on the floor between them before raising itself up to strike. The crowd backed away from them, a few screams scattered amongst the more frightened students. The Hammer raised his wand, but was unsure of what to do - his first instinct said </span>
  <em>
    <span>Incendio</span>
  </em>
  <span> but there were too many people who could be hurt by the collateral damage.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t move, Mason.” Snape spoke lazily, savoring the sight of Harry at odds with an angry serpent, “I’ll get rid of it…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Allow me!” Lockhart shouted. He brandished his wand at the snake and there was a loud bang; the snake, instead of vanishing, flew ten feet into the air and fell back to the floor with a loud smack. Enraged and hissing furiously, the serpent slithered straight toward Justin Finch-Fletchley and raised itself, fangs exposed and ready to strike.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer strode towards it, avoiding a run so as to avoid startling it, something in the back of his mind telling him to start yelling at it, “Stop! Don’t go near him!” as he approached, the serpent turned towards him, tilting its head like it was asking a question before lowering it to the floor. The Hammer grabbed it just behind the head and lifted it up and away from Justin. Harry gave the Hufflepuff a cocky grin over his shoulder, expecting his friend to do the same, but instead Justin looked angry and scared.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What were you playing at?” He shouted at Harry and the snake in his hands before storming out of the hall.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Snape stepped forward, waved his wand and the snake vanished in a puff of black smoke, leaving Harry holding nothing but the confusion he had over the event. Even Professor Longbaugh looked like something strange had happened, his own wand held tight and at the ready.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Professor Snape’s previous look of condescension had faded, replaced with a calculating gaze that told the Hammer he knew more than he was letting on.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s go, Hammer.” Suddenly Neville was there, picking Harry up by the armpit, urging him toward the door. Hermione wasn’t far behind him. By the time they were out in the hall, the Hammer was already resisting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lemme go!” He shook himself loose from his friend’s grasp.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hammer, you’re a Parselmouth, you’ve scared everyone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What the heck does that mean?” The Hammer asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can talk to snakes, Hammer.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is- is that actually a thing? That snake in Diagon Alley wasn’t just magic?” The Hammer slowed down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“All I did was yell at it to stop! I was doing Justin a favor!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that what you said, Harry?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, yeah, weren’t you two there?’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hammer, Parseltongue sounds like hissing. All anyone heard was just a bunch of hissing noises.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer looked flabbergasted, “You’re telling me I was speaking another language? And I didn’t even know it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, the snake language. You could’ve been saying anything. No wonder Justin looked so worried - it sounded like you were egging it on.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Neville looked to Hermione, they both looked like they were attending a funeral.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s all this got to do with anything anyway? I saved his life back there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, being able to speak to snakes is what Salazar Slytherin was famous for. It’s why the house symbol is a snake.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer sat down on a bench, rubbing his scar. He was missing something here.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But I’m not a descendant of Salazar Slytherin - you said my great-great-whatever was Iolanthe Peverell. You found it in that book.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Harry, the book only went back so far. I don’t think anyone had a record that traces all the way back to the founders.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer put his hat back on. “I want to talk to Snape.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Neville looked like he had been asked to stick his head into a lion’s maw.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t have to come with me, but he was looking at me like I was a circus freak. He knows more than he’s letting on. I want to know about it too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The trio moved somewhere less conspicuous and waited for the duelling club to let out, the three sitting in tense silence as they mulled over the new developments. Once the main group of students had left, the three friends walked back into the Great Hall, seeing that Lockhart was disappearing out a side door, leaving Professor Snape and Professor Longbaugh to clean up his mess.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Harry, you’re back.” Longbaugh greeted him, attracting Snape’s attention by doing so.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you want, Mason? Come to cause more trouble?” Snape asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, Professor, I want answers. I’ve been told about Parseltongue, but you looked at me like you know more about it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There is that Ravenclaw predilection again. Don’t stick your nose where it isn’t wanted, Mason.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who was the last Parselmouth that attended this school?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Snape’s eyes narrowed, “You’d do well not to meddle lest you make the rest of Ravenclaw house hate you more for losing house points.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Since when have I ever given a damn-” “Language, Harry.” Longbaugh corrected him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Given two hoots about that? I need to know, Professor Snape. Before anything else happens.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There was a student in more recent memory. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Everyone’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>recent memory.” Snape growled before turning toward one of the exits, “I’ll leave the rest of the cleanup to you, Longbaugh.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who, Professor? Why do you know this? WHO ELSE KNOWS?” Harry yelled after him, but Hermione held him back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Get out of here, Mason.” Snape got the last word in before disappearing out the door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That night, the Hammer couldn’t sleep. He spent his time staring up at the canopy of his four poster bed taking in the simulated stars through the thin fabric. He could speak Parseltongue. Parseltongue was the language of snakes. There were too many implications to think about. The fact that speaking to snakes tied to Salazar Slytherin made sense, but being able to speak a completely different language and not know it made him feel like he was going insane.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The details of the case were getting muddled in his head and the Hammer decided that the only thing he could do to resolve it was to pursue the next lead he could get. Interviewing Hagrid about his involvement with Myrtle’s murder climbed to the top of his priorities. At the very least finding out the details of the cold case would keep him out of everyone’s way. Neville had spoken to him quietly at breakfast, telling him about the rumours spreading in Hufflepuff. His prefects had warned him again about being friends with the Hammer. Harry had noticed the other students in gold trim had begun giving Neville a wide berth. He felt awful about isolating his friend.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Listen, Nev, you can steer clear of me for a while. I’m going to go talk to Hagrid about Myrtle’s case, but keep at it with the petrification defence research. Just leave me a copy of whatever you find in the office.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, Hammer! I know you didn’t do anything. I’m not going to abandon you now because people are starting rumours!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hermione nodded in agreement from behind her book, reaching over to pat Harry on the back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After the first fresh snowfall of the year, their morning Herbology lesson was cancelled to allow Professor Sprout to fit socks and scarves on the Mandrakes - a delicate operation she would entrust to no one else since it was now so important for them to grow quickly and revive Mrs. Norris and Colin Creevey.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer headed out from the castle immediately, pulling his robes tight and missing his own trench coat as he walked through the ankle deep snow towards Hagrid’s place.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He found Hagrid fretting around his garden, a dead rooster in his hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hagrid! Busy day?” Harry cried out as he approached.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, hullo Hammer! Git inside, yeh must be freezin’ in that getup.” Hagrid slogged his way through the snow and opened up his door, letting Harry inside. The warmth of the room hit Harry immediately, the welcome prickling coming over his ears as he felt the blood returning to them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What brings yeh out here today, Hammer?” Hagrid asked, setting the dead rooster down just inside his threshold and putting his enormous kettle over the fire.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Had a couple things I wanted to ask you about, Hagrid. But what’s with the rooster? Sunday dinner?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nah - it’s the second one killed this term. Either foxes or a Blood-Suckin’ Bugbear. Guess I’ll have to talk to the Headmaster ‘bout puttin’ up a charm round the hen-coop.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry took off his hat and set it on his knee, running a hand through his hair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What was it yeh were wantin’ to talk about?” His giant friend asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wanted to talk about why you’re not allowed to do magic.” Harry made a vague gesture toward Hagrid’s umbrella propped up in the corner.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s a little personal, Hammer. I got kicked out of school years ‘n’ years ago.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I got that, Hagrid.” Harry looked into the fire, “Myrtle told me.” Hagrid’s expression darkened.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tell me about it, Hagrid. What do you know about Myrtle’s murder? I know you didn’t do it. I know your pets didn’t do it - well - I trust you when you talk about them. Like with Fluffy. You’re not the type of person to hurt other people.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wish yeh would tell that to the ministry.” Hagrid mumbled a non-answer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I will. I just want you to tell me about what happened back then. At least just tell me you didn’t do it. The kettle had begun to rumble, nearing a boil.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like yeh said, Hammer. I didn’t do it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then who said you did? Myrtle told me you got fingered for it but no one’s said who. The Chief was there, right? He wouldn’t figure you for it any more than me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t want to talk about it, Harry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Help me help you, Hagrid! Please!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think it’s time yeh leave, Hammer. ‘Sides, I’ve still got ter go see the Headmaster.” The kettle was boiling in full swing now. Hagrid took it off and hung it up off to the side before putting an enormous hand on Harry’s shoulder, urging him up off the chair. Harry felt the corners of his mouth tugging down. He had thought he could depend on his friendship to get answers from Hagrid, but adults were proving to be far more complicated than that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer basked in his failure as he walked back up to the school with Hagrid, neither of them saying anything as a new snowfall began. They parted ways once they were indoors, Hagrid lumbering toward the Headmaster’s office with the dead rooster in his hands and the Hammer standing in place, deciding what it was he wanted to do.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With time before his next class was set to begin, Harry lit his wand with Lumos Tenebrosus and began to stalk the halls on instinct. He didn’t expect to find anything - he just needed something to do. He wandered the lower floors and common areas, being given a wide berth by the other students that saw him. The Hammer told himself that he didn’t mind, but there was an irksome feeling to the whole thing. People had seen him working before, everyone had seen exactly what he did and yet there wasn’t any loyalty in it. As soon as it was convenient to lay the mantle of blame on his shoulders, they were willing to do it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Following the cold of a breeze that seemed to be coming in through an open window, Harry found an upstairs corridor bathed in darkness, the wind having put out the torches that had been lit up along the walls. A strange, thin trail of barely frozen water led him to the aftermath of something that made his stomach twist and turn, pulling downward like it was falling into a pit. There were two people on the ground, frozen like they had been interrupted mid conversation - Justin Finch-Fletchley and Luna Lovegood. Both of them looked shocked, like they had turned to see the same surprising thing and had been taken all at once, the twist in Justin’s neck pointing toward another figure. It was the first time the Hammer had seen a twice dead ghost.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nearly Headless Nick was floating next to them, about six inches off the floor, his normal silvery translucence now a black and smoky miasma. The Hammer stared at the scene and blinked, unsure what to make of it. Justin had been talking to Luna, but about what? What happened to Nick? Why was there another line of spiders skittering away in single file and out a window near the scene of the crime? Everything was still and silent save for the muffled sounds of people in classes behind the doors around him. With jagged breaths, Harry bought in on it and approached the petrified bodies and spirit. Lumos didn’t show him anything he couldn’t already see, and he had no way of reading what it was that happened to Nick. Harry could feel his chest tightening. He was going to take the fall for this one for sure unless he could find some convincing evidence that pointed toward the actual culprit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mid-examination, the door to his right opened up with a bang. The neon orange form of Peeves the poltergeist darted out in front of him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why it’s potty mucky Potter-Mason!” He cackled, knocking Harry’s hat off kilter as he bounced by him, “What’s no-fun Potter up to? Why’s he-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Peeves stopped, mid way through a somersault. Upside down, his beady little eyes stopped to look at Nearly Headless Nick, Justin, and Luna, the Hammer bent over them with his wand out and lit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“ATTACK! ATTACK!” Peeves began to yell, Harry’s shoulders slumped noticeably, “NO MORTAL OR GHOST IS SAFE! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! ANOTHER ATAAAAAACK!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer took a few careful, measured steps back out and away from the two students and the ghost. Doors all along the corridor crashed open and people flooded out. The chaos of everyone pouring out into the halls forced Harry up against the wall, unable to do anything as people almost crushed Justin and Luna - others actively standing inside Nick’s smoky form. Harry put his wand away and pulled out a toothpick, chewing on it and watching cooly as the events unfolded. Professor McGonagall came running, followed by her own class - a few still looking like they hadn’t quite completed their transfigurations. She set off a loud bang with her wand, restoring silence, before ordering everyone back into their classes. No sooner had everyone else cleared out when a Hufflepuff Neville had mentioned arrived on scene, face red and panting like he had just run a marathon.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Caught in the act!” Ernie Macmillan yelled, face draining of colour and pointing his finger dramatically at Harry.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Blow it out your -” The Hammer removed the toothpick from his mouth and retorted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That will be quite enough, Mr. Mason!” Professor McGonagall chastised him sharply.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Peeves remained bobbing overhead, grinning wickedly and surveying the scene. From what the Hammer had heard about him he might’ve fed on the concept of pure chaos. As the teachers bent over the students and ghost, examining them, Peeves began to sing a childish taunt,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh Potter, you rotter, oh what have you done?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You’re killing off students, you think it’s good fun -”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s enough Peeves!” Barked Professor McGonagall, and Peeves zoomed away backwards, sticking his tongue out at Harry.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Professor Flitwick levitated Luna whilst Professor Longbaugh and Professor Sinistra from the Astronomy department carried Justin up to the hospital wing, but no one seemed to know what to do for Nick. Eventually, Professor McGonagall conjured a large fan and handed it to Macmillan with instructions to waft him up to the hospital as well. The Hammer watched him go, fanning Nick along like he was playing a morbid party game. If it hadn’t happened like this, The Hammer would’ve suggested it as a diversion during the deathday party.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry lifted himself off the wall and flicked the toothpick out the window, looking at Professor McGonagall.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This way, Mason.” she said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer put his hands in his pockets and went along without a fight, keeping his mouth shut and walking after her to the stone gargoyle statue a few corridors down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sherbert Lemon!” Opened the way. It was the longest short flight of stairs the Hammer had ever taken. Why did they attack Luna? Or Nick? Neither of them were anything near Muggleborn. One wasn’t even alive.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They stepped off the stone staircase at the top and Professor McGonagall knocked on the door. It opened without a sound and she indicated that he should wait in the same chair from before. He wasn’t a prisoner this time - just a suspect in a crime he didn’t commit. He paced the little raised dais after she left, taking a second look around at the strange little doodads and gadgets that adorned the shelves surrounding the office. It had been some time since he had come up here, and there seemed to be even more of them which served no discernable purpose. Up above all the shelves, the portraits of previous headmasters slumbered rather noisily, snoring and murmuring. The Hammer did his best to not wake them as he approached the stand of a magical item he had wanted to talk to since near the beginning of the year, a tattered old rag that called itself the Sorting Hat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bee in your bonnet, Potter-Mason?” It asked when he approached.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Something like that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wondering if you were put into the right house?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, but I was wondering how the hell Gilderoy Lockhart ended up in Ravenclaw.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If the hat had the wherewithal to smile, the Hammer suspected it was grinning like a madman.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t see his redeeming qualities?” It asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t see much of anything from him aside from being a pompous idiot. He’s bad at most magic and his ego is about the size of the Astronomy Tower.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah - but none of those disqualify him. Perhaps you judge him yet too harshly because you haven’t seen the skills he excels at.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I doubt he has any.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then perhaps I judged </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> wrongly.” The hat said and was silent. The Hammer didn’t know what to make of it. There was a reason it did things, but the methods remained opaque. A gagging noise disturbed Harry’s train of thought, drawing his attention to a golden perch near the other door where an ancient looking bird that looked to be more bald than bird rested. The Hammer looked at it and the bird stared back at him one sided with one milky eye, making the strange gagging noise again. A few more feathers fell out of its tail. The Hammer stood stock still, wondering if he was going to get blamed for anything else tonight when the bird erupted into flames.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. Me too, buddy.” Harry said with his hands still in his pockets as the flames grew into a great fireball. It gave a loud shriek and in the next moment there was nothing but a smouldering pile of ash on the floor. It about summed up how the case was going.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The office door opened and Dumbledore came in, looking to the pile of ash and seeing the Hammer standing near his desk.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The old man smiled. “About time, too. He’s been looking dreadful for days. I’ve been telling him to get a move on.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry tilted his head, an expression of concern on his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fawkes is a phoenix, Harry. Phoenixes burst into flame when it is time for them to die and are reborn from the ashes. Watch…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer knelt down to see a tiny, wrinkled, new-born bird poke its head out from the ashes. It was about as ugly as it had been before.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shame you had to see him on a Burning Day.” Dumbledore continued, taking a seat in his chair on the other side of the desk, “He’s really very handsome most of the time: wonderful red and gold plumage. Fascinating creatures, phoenixes. They can carry immensely heavy loads, their tears have healing powers, and they make highly faithful pets.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But will they do the windows and washing up?” Harry said glibly. Dumbledore chuckled lightly but before he could speak another word, the door burst open with an almighty bang and Hagrid burst in with a wild look in his eyes and the dead rooster still swinging in his hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It wasn’ Harry, Professor Dumbledore!” Hagrid spoke like Harry was on the gallows with a noose around his neck.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was talkin’ ter him </span>
  <em>
    <span>seconds</span>
  </em>
  <span> before those kids were found, he never had time, sir…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dumbledore tried to cut in, but Hagrid kept on going, waving the rooster around in his agitation, sending feathers everywhere like he was trying to mimic Diogenes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“... It can’t’ve bin him, I’ll swear it in front o’ the Ministry o’ Magic if I have to…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hagrid, I-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...Yeh’ve got the wrong boy, sir, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> Harry never-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Hagrid!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Dumbledore cut him off, “I do </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> think that Harry attacked those people.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” Hagrid said, deflating as the rooster came to rest, limp at his side. “Right. I’ll wait outside then, Headmaster.” He turned round and began to stomp away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hagrid.” The Hammer called after him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeh?” He turned to answer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“T’weren’t nothin’ Hammer.” And he disappeared out the door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So I’m not on the suspect list?” Harry asked as Dumbledore brushed a few loose rooster feathers from his desk.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not even close. Though I still want to talk to you, Harry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer waited for the headmaster to situate himself, looking Harry up and down over steepled fingers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I must ask you, Harry, whether there is anything you’d like to tell me. Anything at all.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry exhaled a sigh of relief, taking a seat into the chair and removing his hat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Chief, I’ve got so many questions now that I think we could be here all night.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer pulled out his pocket notebook and ran through the year’s notes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did Professor McGonagall ever tell you about how I said there was a conspiracy going on to try and kill me this year?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She did, although after the events of last year, it isn’t entirely unexpected. Voldemort still has other, loyal, followers.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer put a small check mark next to the topic - he was right to have connected the Elf with ‘V’.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, since there isn’t any headway into that, let’s put a pin in it - let’s talk about the Chamber of Secrets.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m afraid that is something I won’t-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you realize there’s a student that was murdered here and her murder was never properly solved? Myrtle Warren down in the girl’s loo with a who-knows-what? Are you any good at playing cluedo, Chief?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dumbledore’s face grew grim. “The Ministry considers that matter resolved. Though with this year’s events, I doubt they’ll remain that way.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But you don’t. Because we know Hagrid was framed for it. I wasn’t here to see it, but a little bird told me you were here teaching transfiguration back then. Who pointed the finger at him, Chief? Do you know why they did it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dumbledore removed his half moon spectacles, staring through his desk like he was avoiding Harry’s gaze as much as the topic. The Hammer waited it out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There was an old Slytherin Prefect who caught Hagrid with one of his more exotic pets at the time. They had reasonable evidence on that alone to accuse him.” The Hammer’s opinion of Wizard justice fell a few more notches.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A giant spider, right? But who was this Prefect?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was. An Acromantula, in fact. Quite a rare breed of arachnid of a rather enormous size. It is known to be carnivorous and does inspire quite a bit of fear.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But it’s still not right. Myrtle said her death was instantaneous and there was still a body. An acro-whatever would’ve eaten her but they didn’t find her corpse for hours. Are the ministry investigators that bad at their jobs? You’re avoiding my question, Chief. Stop beating around the bush, who was that Slytherin Prefect? Was he some kind of enemy to Hagrid? The big guy isn’t one for rivalry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He certainly wasn’t Hagrid’s enemy - but it struck me at the time that his accuser would have other, more selfish motivations for placing the blame on Hagrid.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What. Was. His. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Name</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Chief?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dumbledore placed his glasses back onto his face; they rested in well worn wrinkles nested by others, more to his age than Harry had noticed before. Ancient, sad, blue eyes finally met Harry’s.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“His name was Tom. Tom Riddle.” The Chief finally spoke.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who was he aside from the Slytherin Prefect?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Head boy. A model student.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That doesn’t answer my question.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think it would be best if we stopped talking about this topic.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“All you’re doing is slowing me down, Chief. You know but you won’t say. The Chamber’s open again and the answers I get about Myrtle’s case might be the answers we all need right now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Harry, it isn’t your place to pursue this. Rest assured, my staff and I are all doing our best to protect this generation of students.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The same best that got a Ravenclaw girl not much older than me killed because she was being bullied? No dice, Chief.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer sat back into his chair, taking a deep breath and flipping through his notebook angrily. It steamed him to know that he wasn’t going to share the obvious things he knew even if it were to everyone’s benefit. It was the same as Hagrid, but at least Dumbledore didn’t ask him to leave.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I- Before I go-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, Harry?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> Harry found another topic, notes that had been tossed to the wayside with the year’s events. “Could you tell me what kind of friends James and Lily were with Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer felt enormously busy for how little he felt like he was accomplishing. Dumbledore leaned back into his own chair, the exhale of the purple cushions like a sigh of relief.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really, they started out as James’s friends here in school. I was headmaster then as well and their little group made a name for themselves as rebels and troublemakers, though in a different way than yourself, Harry.” The Hammer hoped so.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They were quite inseparable, and if it wasn’t for the circumstances surrounding James and Lily’s death, I would have thought them inseparable, loyal friends to the end.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, but what were Sirius and Peter actually like? What were their personalities?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sirius was headstrong and rebellious. His family had a strong pure-blood tradition, Harry, but he wanted none of it. He and James would always be up to something, and come what may they would achieve it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What about Pettigrew?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Less so, though he was a survivor. More a boy of means rather than methods, if you understand, Harry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer pondered the Chief’s words.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But, I must be the bearer of bad news for you, Harry.” Dumbledore plucked a small, yellow candy from the tray on his desk, playing with the wrapper but not opening it, “Given your insistence that there is a continuing enterprise to do harm to you, Harry, I’m afraid I must require you to stay over Christmas holiday for your own protection.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“WHAT?” Harry looked up from his furious notetaking, eyes wide.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll submit your name to Professor McGonagall when time comes, but the only way to provide you and your family both physical and magical protection will be to ask you to remain on the castle grounds.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That doesn’t make any sense! The attacks are happening here! If I leave they might stop if they’re really after me!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m afraid that’s final, Harry. I can’t risk the cause of these attacks following you out of the castle grounds. I cannot imagine you or your friends would have the ability to defend yourselves and your loved ones in the middle of London from a powerful dark force.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer sat back down into his chair. He could see where the Chief was coming from and he hated it. He felt powerless to do anything about it - the adults said he couldn’t go, his peers made him feel like he shouldn’t stay, and the case was still an enigma taunting him to be solved.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The attack on Justin, Luna and Nick sublimated the collective anxiety in the school to near panic. Nick and Luna troubled everyone. What kind of terrible power had the ability to harm someone who was already dead? Luna’s attack had thrown the rulebook out the window. Whether or not you were a muggleborn didn’t seem to matter anymore. Neville took it the hardest among them, brooding during mealtimes even more than Harry.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wish I could stay, Hammer. I want to solve this case with you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Me too, pal. I could use your help - Hermione’s managed to send word to her parents, but I don’t think they’d be able to interfere with her choices either way. Are you sure there’s no way you can convince your grandmother about this?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Neville sighed, “She’s worried out of her mind, Hammer. Even more than usual. She insists I need to go home for the holiday. I just- I just wish there was more I could do for you and Hermione… and Luna.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t worry, Neville.” Hermione tried to be comforting, “just keep visiting her and changing out her flowers. I’m sure she appreciates it. When you’re home, see if you have anything around the house that might give you some ideas on this. You’ve got magical books at home, don’t you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I can give it a go.” Neville said with a reluctant smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Neville seemed to be the only one eager to stay - there was practically a stampede amongst the other students to confirm their seats on the Holiday Express, except for the Weasleys, Malfoy, and his two henchmen, oddly enough.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer was fine with watching everyone else leave - it minimized the peripheral noise of people walking on eggshells around him as if he was going to sprout fangs or pull a cursed dagger from his hat, not to mention all of the muttering, pointing, hissing and ridiculous rumours. To his chagrin, Fred and George went all in on it when he had asked to speak to them about buying some things. They marched ahead of him down the corridor, shouting, “Make way for the heir of Slytherin, seriously evil wizard coming through…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry endured a withering look from Percy the Prefect and gave a sheepish smile to Ginny when she told her brothers off, but otherwise kept his quiet once they were on their own up in the armor hall.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“See, Hammer? Sometimes the trick is to attract more attention so people will ignore you by the time you need to do something.” George said with a wink.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Now what is it we can do for you?” Fred asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Remember those wet start fireworks you showed me back at the joke shop in Diagon Alley?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course, they’re a personal favourite.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you think you could put something together that starts the same way, but maybe I can get a bigger… bang for my buck, you know what I mean?” The Hammer asked, phrasing his words carefully since they hadn’t bothered to enter the secret passage.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hm…” “Hmm…” Both twins mimed deep thought, hands on their chins.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We could-” “Probably just pour them together.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, but then it would be bulkier - not to mention probably not as much </span>
  <em>
    <span>fun</span>
  </em>
  <span> as I might need, you know?’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hm…” “Hmm…” George pulled out a spare bit of parchment and drew a basic design on it and held it up for Fred, a mischievous grin spreading on his face. Fred nodded excitedly in agreement.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Give us a few days, Hammer. It’ll be a great Christmas present.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Winter settled in stark and white, a deep silence settling on the grounds as snow descended onto the castle. The Hammer found it a meditative kind of quiet, leaving him and Hermione to read the morning news unmolested. The owl post came in early, many of the birds just beginning to be covered in the light powder falling. To his surprise, Harry received a small package with a letter signed from Grant and Petunia, whilst Hermione received two from her parents, one of which she squirreled away immediately before opening the other - it contained her Christmas gifts: a new journal, yet another Agatha Christie title, and a space pen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry opened the letter from his parents,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dear Harry,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We hope you’re doing well. The Headmaster wrote us personally to tell us that he’s sequestered you to school for the holiday because of some kind of danger. He wasn’t terribly specific but if it were any other school I’d have you home in a heartbeat. Your mother and I are worried about you, and I know this might arrive before Christmas day, but I thought you should have it back, just in case. Please stay safe, Harry. Come home to us as soon as you can. Magic or no magic, you’ll always have a place here.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Love,</span>
</p>
<p><span>Dad</span><span><br/></span> <span>P.S. Tom and Fiona are coming over to our house this year for Christmas Dinner. We both tried to invite Arthur and Molly, but they’re headed to Egypt for the holiday.”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer wiped at his eyes with his sleeve. The letter from his mother was similar, but from the spots on the page he could tell she had cried whilst writing it. It didn’t make it any easier to stay at Hogwarts over the holiday. Folding both letters and setting them aside, Harry opened the little box to find the set of brass knuckles his father had taken before the start of term. Petunia had attached a small handwritten tag which read ‘EMERGENCIES ONLY!’ to reiterate their opinion of him keeping a weapon like that around. Harry plucked the string off from the finger loop and tossed the knuckles into his belt pouch.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was the first time the Hammer had celebrated Christmas away from his parents, but Hogwarts had aimed to impress. Christmas morning came with the muted tones of a snowblind dawn, stark clean light filling the bedecked Ravenclaw tower with an ethereal kind of glow. Harry nodded a sleepy ‘good morning’ and ‘Happy Christmas’ to the Grey Lady who was shining in the sun on his way down the stairs to the common room. When he came out onto the carpeted floor of the room, he saw that Hermione was already there, nose buried in the novel her parents had sent her. He blanched, realizing suddenly that he hadn’t had a chance to buy anyone anything. He had expected to do all his Christmas shopping in London after they had gone home for the holiday.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Happy Christmas, Hermione.” He said reluctantly, calling her attention away from her reading.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Happy Christmas, Harry.” She looked up from her book, the corners of her eyes lifting just slightly as if she were hiding a smile behind the pages.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Listen, I-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know. It’s been a busy year. I forgive you, but I do have a present I think both of us will enjoy, though.” She read him immediately, pulling out the small parcel her parents had sent her a few days earlier. She handed it to him, her smile obvious now since she had managed to confuse him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry looked it over, still wrapped in plain brown paper before looking back to her. Hermione urged him to open it. Inside was a betamax copy of “In a Lonely Place” Starring Bogart and Grahame.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We can watch it together tonight, after Christmas dinner.” she said with a hint of pride blooming in her voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’d love to, but where?” Harry asked, remembering to pick his jaw up off the floor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We can ask Professor Longbaugh. He’s got a working player and a television that I’ve seen them use for Muggle Club.” She replied.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wonderful-” Harry stopped, walking over to the tree in the center of the common room when he noticed another handful of packages with his name on them. “There’s a few here for you too, Hermione.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pulled them out from underneath the evergreen and gave them to her. Neville had sent them both a large box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans - a wizarding treat that he particularly enjoyed. Hagrid had given him a large tin of treacle fudge, and Mrs. Weasley had sent them both a new, hand-knitted jumper with their initials monogrammed in large, blocky script on the front. Harry tugged it on over his pyjama top to check the fit, smiling to find that it was a perfect size. He had hoped his parents would reach out to Arthur and Molly to keep tabs with developments in the wizarding world. It was good to have friends your age. He looked over to Hermione, whose bushy hair bounced back out after slipping on her jumper - a good looking shade of dark crimson.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>*</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dinner in the great hall at Hogwarts didn’t disappoint. The decorations had come in wonderfully with a dozen frost-covered Christmas trees and thick streamers of holly and mistletoe criss-crossing the ceiling. On top of all that, enchanted snow fell from above, warm and dry. The Chief took the stand and led everyone in his favourite carols, Hagrid’s volume on an upward crescendo with every goblet of eggnog he consumed. The Hammer stifled laughter, whispering to Hermione when he saw Percy the prefect walk by, his school badge enchanted to read ‘Pinhead’.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In his second helping of pudding, the twins walked by, practising a juggling routine with various treats they had picked up from the Gryffindor table, wishing the two Ravenclaws a Merry Christmas. With a wink, Fred let one of their items drop neatly into Harry’s lap before they left. Inside a stack of blackcurrant tarts, there was a small orb wrapped in paper a bit larger than a cricket ball. The Hammer fished it out and put it into his pouch, cleaning himself up afterward.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After dinner, Harry and Hermione went to the Muggle Studies classroom, finding Professor Longbaugh scratching his head whilst grading an assigned paper.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Merry Christmas you two, what’s going on this time?”</span>
</p>
<p><span>“Merry Christmas, Professor,” they said just slightly out of sync with one another. “We wanted to see if we could use your Betamax recorder.”</span><span><br/></span> <span>Hermione held up the copy of the movie.</span></p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, sure. Let me unlock the room.” The Professor opened up the storage closet with a warded key that looked comically large when withdrawn from his pocket. He headed inside and carried out a television stacked on top of the player, a power lead trailing behind him like a paralyzed tail. After setting it down on a stack of boxes, the Professor waved his wand at two of the desks and changed it into a small couch facing the television before tapping the TV itself. The screen turned on into analog snow despite the lack of power.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Here you go. You’ll have to stay here to watch it, though. I don’t want any of this stuff leaving the classroom.” He went back over to his desk and sat down, continuing to read the paper he had been grading. With the light waning and the movie’s trailers played out, Longbaugh got up from his desk and grabbed his hat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m going to talk to the kitchen about getting some things up here to nibble on.” He said before leaving, closing the door with barely any noise. Hermione leaned her head on Harry’s shoulder as the opening music began to play.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Before the end of holiday, Harry and Hermione went back into the office to update the thought board with the new answers they had gotten from everyone. Even Slytherin’s monster seemed to respect the spirit of the season - in spite of the tension they had been feeling, there weren’t any new attacks, and Harry hadn’t heard the voice in the walls in some time. In the bottom left hand corner of the thought board, Harry started the branches for his parents’ murder again, but they dead ended with the Chief’s non-answers. Even worse was how the conspiracy to kill Harry had only resulted in attacks on his peers, rather than anything confronting him directly. Unwinding Myrtle’s old murder had slowly started to expand the tendrils of her related nodes toward the corner with the ‘V’ in it. He wondered if it was a coincidence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I was stuck between a rock and a hard place. On the one side the rock was a faceless conspiracy ready to murder me by killing everyone around me first. On the other was a canceled stamp of a dame by the name of Myrtle Warren. She was dead longer years than I had lived and my friend had taken the fall for her killing. The pointer man was a schmuck named Riddle. “</span>
  </em>
  <span>Tom Riddle. I had seen that name before and it was my fault I didn’t know where. Was he a bruiser? Was he a self righteous gunsel with a buzzer that made everything he did right? Life was feeling like everything was tangled into the Gordian knot and I was short a sword.</span>
  <em>
    <span>”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A crumpled ball of parchment hit Harry in the side of the face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re doing it again,” Hermione said, looking up from her revisions, “You started narrating to yourself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” Harry took his feet off the desk and sat back up straight before fixing his hat, “D-Do I do that a lot?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Neville thinks it’s the best thing ever so he never says anything and just listens, but you do it every time you’re thinking about a case.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry flushed a shade of bright red, “Do I ever do it in public?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hermione gave a wicked little smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Anyway if you’re so concerned with this Tom Riddle person, why not just go back and talk to Myrtle about it? She might know something about him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good idea, Angel. I’ll stop by sometime.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A knock came on the office door and Harry looked over to Hermione. She put her finger on her nose and stuck her tongue out. The Hammer sighed and got up from his seat, opening the inner door to find Ron Weasley already standing in their small waiting room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hullo, Ron. Come in. What brings you here today?” Harry motioned him in, letting him take a seat in the visitor’s chair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hi Hammer, Hermione. I-” Ron rubbed the back of his neck, looking up over Harry’s shoulder at the thought board full of unintelligible squiggles. He squinted at it, puzzling over what it might mean.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“D’you have a case for me?” Harry interrupted his thoughts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh! Yeah, it’s about my sister, Ginny.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer pulled out his notebook and wrote her name down at the top of a fresh page.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I - I don’t quite know how to put it…” Ron trailed off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Might as well start from the beginning. What’s on your mind?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s just that she’s been acting a lot different lately. More distant, you know?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh huh.” Harry nodded, scribbling down notes, “What kind of different are you talking about?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, it’s not that she’s mental or anything. She just used to tell me more about her life and how she was doing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Used to - like a few years ago or like a few months ago?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Even the beginning of this year. Once she got to school, and now with all these attacks, I dunno, Hammer. She’s just acting so different.” The Hammer kept writing. It was obvious that Ron was having a hard time trying to express his dissatisfaction into the right words.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So where do you think she’s been telling her sorrows if she’s not talking to you anymore?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I do see her writing in a journal. I’m OK with that, but it feels like it’s just been such a big change that she wouldn’t talk to any of us about it. As far as I know she’s not talking to our brothers about anything either.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh huh.” “I think she’s just growing up.” Hermione spoke up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you mean?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think this is natural for a girl growing up to start keeping a few secrets. At some point you start to disagree with the people around or who she might fan-” Hermione looked between them and stopped.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s pretty obvious who she fancies,” Ron raised both eyebrows, tilting his head at Harry, “but it’s not just that - she’s also been looking extra tired lately and acting, I dunno, weird. It’s just not Ginny.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Has she been talking to any of her friends?” The Hammer asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s the thing, she was good friends with that Loony Lovegood in your house but now she’s…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They all looked in separate directions. Harry had heard the nickname before and still didn’t like it, but he didn’t want to interrupt Ron’s train of thought.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m just worried about my sister, Hammer. Fred and George’ve said you’re the best one at school for figuring out things like this and I just want to know if there’s something wrong that I can help with.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ron did look genuinely worried.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tell you what, I’ll take the case. No guarantees, but we’ll start somewhere and see if there is anyone or anything troubling her.” The Hammer volunteered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I still think that she’s just growing up, but I won’t stop you.” Hermione put in her thought before going back to revisions. Ron held up a hand next to his face and made an expression to the Hammer. Harry nodded sagely.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ron, one last thing.” The Hammer flipped his notebook back to a different topic.</span>
</p>
<p><span>“Yeah?”</span><span><br/></span> <span>“Do you have anybody living in your dorm named something -tigrew? -Ettigrew, Pettigrew, maybe?” Harry asked.</span></p>
<p>
  <span>“No, doesn’t ring a bell. Can’t think of anybody with a similar name in my house either.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer thanked him and got up to open the door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry wasn’t able to find a good time to go back down to the girl’s lavatory until everyone had returned from holiday. After welcoming Neville back and catching him up on how Ron had brought them a case and that nothing had happened over the break, the Hammer set back to work, sneaking back down to the lavatory before lunch.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On his way in, he found the entire area in a puddle of water with more leaking out from under the door. Checking to make sure the coast was clear, the Hammer opened the door to Myrtle’s wailing. The volume doubled when the door was no longer in its way. She was crying even louder and harder than ever before. From the source, she was hiding down inside her usual toilet. The inside of the lavatory looked like it had been doused with a deluge of everything the pipes had, the walls and ceiling still dripping.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Myrtle, what happened?” The Hammer called out as he entered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who’s that?” Myrtle gurgled from somewhere down the pipe, “Come to throw something else at me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer waded his way across the floor, feeling the moisture climbing down his socks, “Myrtle, doll, why would I throw something at you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t ask me,” Myrtle shouted, emerging with a wave of even more water that splashed onto the pool that was the floor, “Here I am minding my own business, and someone thinks it’s funny to throw a book at me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, it wasn’t me. Who threw it at you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know. I was just sitting in the U-bend, thinking about death, and it fell right through the top of my head.” She said with a pout, “It’s over there, it got washed out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer slogged his way over to the sinks, following Myrtle’s pointing. A soaked little black book was lying on the tile, not so different from the journals the Hammer kept. Picking it up and turning it over, Harry found it was actually a diary, the dates on the cover showing that it was at least 50 years old. On the first page, a barely legible name was signed “T.M. Riddle” in smudged ink.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is from that Slytherin Prefect the Chief was talking about. They said he solved your murder the first time.” The Hammer said to Myrtle, who had resumed her weeping, but more quietly and with one eye occasionally peeking at him curiously. “Said he was a model student. I remember now, he’s almost got his own wall up in the trophy room.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The puzzling part was that the pages were all blank. The previous owner hadn’t written a single thing in it aside from his name from what Harry could see.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Got any ideas who it might’ve belonged to, sweetheart?” The Hammer kept looking through it, being careful to peel the pages apart to make sure that it was well and truly blank.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh-uh” Myrtle shook her head, floating over to look at it over Harry’s shoulder. There was an embossing on the back cover that listed a newsagent’s in Vauxhall Road, London.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Must’ve at least been a half blood or a Muggleborn bloke.” Harry mused.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think I’ve been to that shop.” Myrtle said, a distant look in her ghostly eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah? You’re a Muggleborn?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mhm. It’s been ages since I’ve seen the city, though. People wore hats like yours when I was there last.” She flipped the brim of Harry’s hat as she flew away down into the pipes again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer turned the book over in his hands. There was a strange magnetism to it, and now he had something that connected directly to the cold case that he was working. The timing and the relevance was too good. Harry pocketed it. There had to be more to it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Back up in the office, Hermione was excited to hear the story when Harry handed her the book.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oooh, it might have hidden powers,” She exclaimed, taking the book and examining it thoroughly before pulling her wand from her bag.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It might be invisible ink.” She tapped the diary three times and said, “Aparecium!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nothing happened. Undaunted, Hermione shoved her hand back into her bag and pulled out what appeared to be a bright red eraser.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s a Revealer, I got it in Diagon Alley.” She explained. She rubbed hard on ‘January the First’ and then the blank rest of the page. Nothing happened.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer grumbled, staring at the blank page when she handed it back to him. It was yet another puzzle queued up into the line of puzzles he had like a monkey on his back.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The Hammer wasn’t happy about it - but it seemed like he was never happy until he had closed in on the answers he wanted. With Riddle’s journal in hand it felt like he was right there - standing on the edge of a cliff and staring into the abyss, ready to fill it with a revelatory light, but there just wasn’t enough for him to do it. Something was missing. The ease of Christmas holiday and the relative calm of the season had lulled some of the others into hopeful relaxation, but there were still others who wanted to blame Harry for everything that happened so far.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gilderoy Lockhart even began to talk about how his very presence had made the attacks stop. Between classes, he had been chatting with Professor McGonagall.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t think there’ll be any more trouble, Minerva,” he tapped his nose with a knowing wink, “I think the Chamber has been locked for good this time. The culprit must have known it was only a matter of time before I caught them. Rather sensible to stop now, before I came down hard on them.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer redoubled his efforts, Hermione and Neville following him, with some reluctance on Hermione’s part.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe he’s right - he is a famous defender against the Dark Arts.” She said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I still can’t believe you’re defending him. You’ve seen him at work. He couldn’t defend his way out of a wet blanket.” Harry retorted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’d like to see you do better.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Unlike some people who work here, I’m still working on it.” Harry had gotten up with a huff and taken his things to a different room. Sitting back down alone, he found he couldn’t concentrate on his homework anymore after his tiff with Hermione. Instead, he pulled out all of the materials related to the case he had written onto separate sheets and set Riddle’s diary in front of him. It ended up looking like an occult ritual circle expanding around the diary. The Hammer flipped open to the first blank page and stared at it a moment before uncapping his fountain pen. If it was going to sit there being blank, then it could at least be useful. He wrote the day’s current date down underneath the one printed at the top, lifting his arm up to try and figure out what it was he wanted to rearrange in his notes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To his surprise, the fresh black ink shimmered on the page a moment before fading away, leaving the paper blank and clean again. A moment later, a question formed in the same slick, black ink in words and handwriting foreign to him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that what day it is?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer stared at it, unsure of what to do before those words faded away as well. Harry decided to scribble back,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes.” That faded. The blankness of the diary lasted a few longer moments, like it was thinking.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My name is Tom Riddle. Who might you be? And how did you find my diary?” Harry felt one side of his mouth curling up. This was it. This was the clue he needed to get a confession about Myrtle’s murderer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m Harry Mason. Someone tried to flush your book down a toilet.” He gave it his non-famous name. There was no reason to trust a book that could talk back. The Hammer tapped the end of his pen against the table, waiting for the book to respond.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lucky that I recorded my memories in some more lasting way than ink. But I always knew that there would be those who would not want this diary read.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you mean?” Harry asked in return.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean that this diary holds memories of terrible things. Things which were covered up. Things which happened at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The text faded. The Hammer kept tapping with his pen on the table - it was his turn to think. It felt like some kind of trap. Of course there were terrible things that happened at Hogwarts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What kind of terrible things? There’s some nasty things happening at Hogwarts now. Some people say it’s something about the Chamber of Secrets.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Riddle’s reply came quickly, the writing becoming less tidy, as if he was hurrying to tell Harry all he knew.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course it’s the Chamber of Secrets. In my day they spoke of it as legend - something that didn’t exist. But this was a lie. In my fifth year, the Chamber was opened and the monster attacked several students, finally killing one. I caught the person who opened the Chamber and he was expelled. But the Headmaster, Professor Dippet, ashamed that such a thing had happened at Hogwarts, forbade me to tell the truth. A story was given out that the girl had died in a freak accident. They gave me a nice, shiny engraved trophy for my trouble and warned me to keep my mouth shut. But I knew it could happen again. The monster lived on and the one who had the power to release it was not imprisoned.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who was it last time?” the Hammer wrote back, asking something he already knew.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can show you, if you like.” Riddle replied, writing smooth and clear again, “You don’t have to take my word for it. I can take you inside my memory of the night when I caught him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer took off his hat and put it on the desk near him, looking around the classroom again to make sure that the coast was clear. There was something to this - and whatever magic was hidden inside this thing’s pages sounded like it was a different kind of powerful. The Hammer looked back down at the diary and saw a fresh set of words forming,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let me show you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry grumbled to himself before writing, “O.K.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The pages of the book began to turn as if caught in a high wind, stopping halfway through the month of June. The little square for June 13th had turned into a tiny television screen. The Hammer leant forward and pressed his eye to the window to see the pictures moving inside and before he knew it, he was falling in. The window had widened and he felt his body pitch headfirst through the opening in the page into a whirl of colour and shadow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry felt his feet touch solid ground. He tapped himself from toe to head in a body check to make sure all the important bits had made it with him when the shapes around him came sharply into focus. It looked like the Chief’s office, but it wasn’t the Chief behind the desk. Instead, there was someone who looked even more ancient - bald save for a few wisps of stark white hair, reading a letter by candlelight. The Hammer stood stock still, waiting for the wizened old man to notice his presence. After a few slow and careful breaths when the man didn’t, the Hammer began to creep up toward him to try and see what he was reading.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before he made it very far, the wizard folded up the letter with a sigh, stood up, walked past Harry without even a glance and went to draw the curtains at his window.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sky outside was the colour of fresh blood, a richly steeped sunset full of foreboding. The wizard went back to the desk, sat down and twiddled his thumbs and watched the door, the light from the window coating him in a crimson aura.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man’s office was more straightforward, as wizards went - no phoenixes, no whirligigs, no strange contraptions. This was, presumably, the old headmaster’s place as Riddle had known it, though how he knew what the previous headmaster was doing in his office alone was a question that needed to be asked later.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A knock sounded on the office door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Enter.” The old wizard said in a voice that would’ve barely been audible in the entrance hall.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A boy about sixteen years old entered, taking off the stupid pointed uniform hat. A silver Prefect’s badge glinted on his chest in contrast to his jet black hair. He was a network television kind of good looking, a decently defined jaw and eyes with the iridescence of black pearl.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, Riddle.” the Headmaster greeted him. So this was the guy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You wanted to see me, Professor Dippet?” Riddle asked, looking nervous.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sit down,” Dippet gestured, “I’ve just been reading the letter you sent me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh.” Riddle said before he sat down, clenching his hands together, knuckles white for an instant before loosening his grip.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My dear boy,” Dippet tried to sound kind, “I cannot possibly let you stay at school over the summer. Surely you want to go home for the holidays?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Riddle responded immediately, “I’d much rather stay at Hogwarts than go back to that - to that -”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You live in a Muggle orphanage during the holidays, I believe?” Dippet asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes sir,” Riddle flushed a little. Harry felt for him, knowing what life was like for orphans who never got adopted. The Hammer pushed away a twisting feeling in his heart when he remembered his parents.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You are Muggle-born?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Half-blood, sir. Muggle father, witch mother.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And are both of your parents-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My mother died shortly after I was born, sir. They told me at the orphanage she lived just long enough to name me: Tom after my father, Marvolo after my grandfather.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dippet clucked his tongue sympathetically.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The thing is, Tom,” the old headmaster sighed, “special arrangements might have been made for you, but in the current circumstances…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You mean all these attacks, sir?” Riddle said and Harry’s eyes widened. He had just heard the motive behind why he would file a false report with the authorities.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Precisely,” said the Headmaster, “my dear boy, you must see how foolish it would be of me to allow you to remain at the castle when term ends. Particularly in the light of the recent tragedy… the death of that poor little girl… You will be safer by far at your orphanage. As a matter of fact, the Ministry of Magic is even now talking about closing the school. We are no nearer locating the - er- source of all this unpleasantness... “ The Hammer bit his tongue, watching the old headmaster speak. It made his blood boil to know no one in charge could think their way out of a wet paper bag.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Riddle’s eyes widened.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sir - if the person was caught… if it all stopped…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you mean?” Dippet said with a squeak in his voice, sitting up in his chair, “Riddle, do you mean you know something about these attacks?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, sir” Riddle said a little too quickly. Harry had seen it before; he had used it himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dippet sank back, looking faintly disappointed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You may go, Tom…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Riddle slid off his chair and stumped out of the room. Harry followed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Down the moving spiral staircase, emerging next to the gargoyle in the darkening corridor, Riddle stopped. The Hammer followed suit, watching him. Lines of thought furrowed Riddle’s brow whilst he chewed on his lip.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A flash of inspiration passed over Tom’s face and he hurried off with the Hammer on his tail. There wasn’t a soul in the castle until they reached the Entrance Hall when a tall wizard with a long, sweeping auburn hair and beard called to Riddle from the marble staircase.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you doing, wandering around this late, Tom?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was the Chief, Dumbledore, but without the weight of fifty years.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I had to see the headmaster, sir.” Riddle replied.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, hurry off to bed,” Dumbledore told him, giving Riddle the same kind of penetrating stare the Hammer knew so well, “best not to roam the corridors these days. Not since…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sighed with the heaviness of a man caught beneath the weight of the world and bade Riddle goodnight before striding off. Riddle watched him until he was out of sight and then headed straight down the stone steps to the dungeons with the Hammer in his shadow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Prefect went to the same dungeon in which Snape held his potions class. The torches hadn’t been lit, and when Riddle pushed the door almost closed, Harry could see him keeping watch on the passageway through the sliver he had left open. It was an old fashioned stakeout. They waited for what felt like an hour, just Tom, the Hammer, and an empty corridor. Harry had a respect for the prefect, standing still as a statue and breathing quiet, slow breaths to not give away his position.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A noise cued the Hammer back to the corridor - someone was trying to creep along the passage. Harry heard the unknown figure pass by their room, followed a few moments later by Riddle sliding out after him. The Hammer followed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry could tell it wasn’t the first time Riddle had followed someone at a distance: he knew how far to stay back, and when to pause and listen for a change in their noise and direction. A door creaked open nearby followed by someone speaking in a hoarse whisper.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“C’mon… gotta get yeh outta here… c’mon now… in the box…” Harry knew the voice immediately.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Riddle jumped out from around the corner and Harry followed a moment after. The dark outline of a huge boy was crouching in front of an open door, a large box next to it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Evening, Rubeus,” Riddle said sharply.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The silhouette slammed the door shut and stood up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What yer doin’ down here, Tom?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Riddle stepped closer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s all over,” he said, “I’m going to have to turn you in, Rubeus. They’re talking about closing Hogwarts if the attacks don’t stop.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What d’yeh-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t think you meant it to kill anyone, but monsters don’t make good pets. I suppose you just let it out for exercise and -”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It never killed no one!” the large boy backed against the closed door. From behind him, Harry could hear a funny rustling and clicking.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on, Rubeus,” Riddle continued, moving closer, “The dead girl’s parents will be here tomorrow. The least Hogwarts can do is make sure that the thing that killed their daughter is slaughtered…”</span>
</p>
<p><span>“It wasn’ him!” Roared the boy, his voice echoing in the dark passage, “He wouldn’! He never!”</span><span><br/></span> <span>“Stand aside,” Riddle commanded, drawing out his wand.</span></p>
<p>
  <span>His spell lit the corridor with a sudden flaming light. The door behind the large boy flew open with such force it knocked him into the wall opposite. Out of it came something that chilled the Hammer to the bone. Harry bit his lip hard enough to draw blood to prevent himself from screaming. The taste of iron running bitter over his tongue, Harry used the pain to focus on the details of the creature.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A vast, low-slung, hairy body and a tangle of black legs; a gleam of many eyes and a pair of razor-sharp pincers untangled itself from the box - Riddle raised his wand again, but he was too late. The thing bowled him over as it scuttled away, tearing up the corridor and out of sight. Riddle scrambled to his feet, looking after it; he raised his wand, but the huge boy leapt on him, seized his wand and threw him back down, yelling, “NOOOOOOO!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The whole scene whirled, fading into complete darkness. The Hammer felt a fall, and with a crash he landed on his back in the disused classroom he had been in, the chair he had been sitting in toppled over with him. Riddle’s diary lay open on his stomach.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His hands shaking, Harry flipped the book shut and sat up, feeling the ache in his body flaring in the cold classroom. He ran his tongue over the inside of his lip, wincing. He couldn’t tell how much the book could do. The Hammer tossed it up onto the desk with his case notes and scrambled out the door, closing it behind him before leaning against the wall adjacent to catch his breath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tom,” The Hammer heaved, wiping cold sweat from his brow, “You lying sack of shit.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Chapter 16</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The Hammer couldn’t trust the magic diary. He knew that much. Seeing Tom Riddle’s testimony compared to everything else surrounding the case made him more suspicious of it than ever. He needed to figure out more - going back to Hagrid was his next best option. Hopefully his friend would tell him the finer details about it now that he knew more about the incident. He considered it a matter of urgency.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hermione and Neville hadn’t made much progress on their work either, the true nature of the Chamber of Secrets and its monster still eluded them - Neville had come up with a list of things that seemed to be decent defences but a lot of the possible countermeasures were still well above their level for second year students. Hermione’s list of possible causes filled up a few feet of parchment and didn’t seem to be stopping - Harry felt like he hadn’t seen her in so long because she had been disappearing to the library every day after classes. The Hammer was a little worried she would start developing grey hair from how hard she was working. Hopefully once Hagrid fessed up, they could narrow down her list.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A few days later, the Hammer pulled his cloak of invisibility out and put it on before sneaking out of the Ravenclaw common room and out of the castle to Hagrid’s hut. In the distant light, the Hammer made out silhouettes headed to the same place he was. One of them was immediately recognisable as the Chief, the other was a more portly silhouette wearing what looked like a bowler hat. The Hammer sped up when he saw Hagrid answer the door, his crossbow in hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“-very bad business. Had to come.” The Hammer paused nearby to listen while the portly man spoke. Up close, he cut a strange look with a pin-striped suit, a scarlet tie, a long black cloak, and pointed purple boots. The bowler was lime green. Hagrid looked worse for wear, his complexion pale and the sheen of sweat coming off him glistening in the firelight. “Three students attacked already. Things’ve gone far enough. The Ministry has to act.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I never,” Hagrid spoke, looking imploringly at Dumbledore, “you know I never, Professor Dumbledore, sir…” Harry watched the sad display through the window.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I want it understood, Cornelius, that Hagrid has my full confidence,” Dumbledore spoke, frowning at the portly man.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Look, Albus,” bowler-man spoke but didn’t look anyone in the eye, “Hagrid’s record’s against him. Ministry has got to make an example - the school governors have been in touch.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yet again, Cornelius, I tell you that taking Hagrid away will not help anyone in the slightest,” The Chief spoke with a fire that Harry had never seen before.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Look at it from my point of view,” the bureaucrat said, fidgeting with his bowler, “I’m under a lot of pressure. Got to be seen doing something. If it turns out it wasn’t Hagrid, he’ll be back and no more said. But I’ve got to take him. Got to. Wouldn’t be doing my duty-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Take me?” said Hagrid, “take me where?’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“For a short stretch only,” the Ministry man still didn’t meet anyone’s gaze, “not a punishment, Hagrid, more a precaution while we look into it. If someone else is caught, you’ll be let out with a full apology…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not Azkaban?” Hagrid croaked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before Cornelius could answer, there was another loud rap on the door. Dumbledore answered it and Harry bit his lip. Lucius Malfoy strode into Hagrid’s hut, swathed in a long black travelling cloak, smiling a cold and satisfied smile. Fang started to growl.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Already here, Fudge,” he said approvingly, “Good, good…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’re you doin’ here?” Hagrid yelled, “get out of my house!”</span>
</p>
<p><span>“My dear man, please believe me, I have no pleasure at all in being inside your -er - d’you call this a house?” Malfoy said, sneering, “I simply called at the school and was told the Headmaster was here?”</span><span><br/></span> <span>“And what exactly did you want with me, Lucius?” Dumbledore spoke politely, but from the look in his eyes, he was still incensed.</span></p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Dreadful</span>
  </em>
  <span> thing, Dumbledore,” Malfoy senior spoke lazily, taking out a long roll of parchment, “but the governors feel it’s time for you to step aside. This is an Order of Suspension - you’ll find all twelve signatures on it. I’m afraid after discussing it over the holiday we feel you’re losing your touch-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer had enough of it right then and there. He stepped aside from the window, taking off his cloak and shoving it into his mokeskin pouch as the adults continued to talk politics.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Now look, Lucius, if </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dumbledore</span>
  </em>
  <span> can’t stop them-” Fudge said as Harry stepped up to the door, taking in a breath, “I mean to say, </span>
  <em>
    <span>who can</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That remains to be-” Harry slammed open the door, making everyone but Dumbledore jump in surprise. Hagrid’s head brushed the ceiling.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Now listen here you two-bit bureacurats! Hagrid was framed by some bimbo named Tom Riddle! Tell him, Chief!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dear lord, who is-” Fudge began.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Harry Potter. You-” Lucius started speaking at the same time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Go chase yourself, Lucy! Sick of all your damn lies!” Harry pointed an angry finger at Lucius.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Language, Harry.” Dumbledore spoke. It broke the Hammer’s momentum like a wave crashing onto a breakwater.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But Chief, you know he’s lying! There’s no reason for this! This Fudge nonce is just rounding up the usual suspects! You were there! Just tell him about Tom!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, is this Harry Potter?” Fudge asked again, a quaver in his voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes Cornelius, Harry this is Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic.” Harry eyed him like the droppings in the owlery.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dear, dear, Mister Potter. It seems the things my son has said are more true than he realizes. All accusations and not a shred of proof.” Lucius Malfoy unfurled the parchment he had in hand, showing the official declaration with its twelve signatures.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If the governors want my removal, Lucius, I shall of course step aside.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But-” Fudge stuttered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>No!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Hagrid growled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can’t-” The Hammer felt an icy chill. He doubted whoever was next in line would deal with his antics quite the same way. He doubted anyone but the Chief had the big picture. Dumbledore hadn’t taken his bright blue eyes off of Lucius Malfoy’s cold grey ones.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Damnit, Chief! If you’re not the headmaster, you don’t have any loyalty to the office, just tell them about Tom Riddle!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dumbledore held up his hand to Harry, “My boy, there is, as always, more to it. My loyalty to this school and her students will not waver, and I’m sure we will find that I will only </span>
  <em>
    <span>truly</span>
  </em>
  <span> have left this school when none here are loyal to me. Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry had never been more frustrated by Gryffindors.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Damn it, Chief! Anything that can be destroyed by the truth deserves to be!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Now, now, Harry. Language. I do hope you won’t mind Lucius, but my final act as Headmaster will be to give Harry detention. With Professor Lockhart. Professor McGonagall will be in touch for the exact day. Students shouldn’t be wandering the grounds after curfew.” He said with a twinkle in his eye.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer stood with his mouth agape. Lucius smiled his smug, condescending smile. Harry rubbed his forehead and sighed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Y’know what, fine. We’ll do this your way, enjoy your stupid games.” The Hammer stormed out the door and back into the night.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Chapter 17</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“I can’t believe this.” Harry muttered to himself in the office, completely unable to concentrate on the class choice roster for their next year. Professor Flitwick had given out the list early so as to give everyone time to think about it since Ravenclaws had been known to be particularly finicky about their class choices. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right? There’s just so many choices!” Hermione said, still poring over the list in front of her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Neville had the same list in front of him, but was surrounded by a gigantic stack of letters from all the witches and wizards in his family, all giving conflicting advice on what he should choose.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“D’you think Arithmancy sounds more difficult than Study of Ancient Runes?” Neville asked absentmindedly whilst shuffling through more letters.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer looked at the list again - it didn’t seem like very many of the classes would help him on his way to being a detective. He wondered now about what the wizarding world had for investigators. From the piss poor job they had done in Myrtle’s case he had a nagging feeling he wouldn’t like working for the Ministry.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not about classes, Hermione, about the Chief.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She looked up from her papers, “It isn’t fair that they took Hagrid, but what else could the Ministry do? It’s on his record.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They’re a bunch of useless bureaucrats is what they are. Throwing an innocent man in prison for something we can prove he didn’t do. Why didn’t he fight it? Why didn’t the Chief fight it harder? Now there’s barely anyone here I’d trust to help with this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It-” Neville spoke up, stuttering to a halt over his pile of letters, “It isn’t just a prison, Hammer. It’s Azkaban.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You say that name like I should be afraid of it, Neville, what’s the deal?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just - you don’t know what they do to people in there, do you?” Neville set down his quill.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Throw them in cells to rot, don’t they?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, yeah, but it’s not just that, it’s the Dementors you have to worry about.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s a Dementor?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They’re these,” Neville gesticulated wildly, indicating something wavy but mostly person-shaped, “They’re like phantoms, more like the Bloody Baron, but scarier.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve talked to the Baron, he’s - well he’s scary, but he’s not world ending.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dementors are, Hammer. They feed on happiness is what I’ve heard.” At this point Neville had an expression on his pale face like he couldn’t bear to talk more on the point.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We better solve this quickly then, don’t want Hagrid to spend a second longer in there than he is.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer took out Riddle’s diary from his bag and set it down in front of Hermione.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know Nev’s still busy tracking down more defensive spells, but I got some answers out of the diary -” He explained about the ink and the visions, and how he didn’t trust what the Tom Riddle hidden in the pages had to say, “Think you can take it for tonight whilst I’m in detention with Lockhart? Maybe see if you can get some answers out of him - or just keep up with the lie he tells you so you can see what it’s all about?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hermione picked it up off the desk gingerly, reevaluating the blankness of the pages. She closed it and nodded a distracted affirmative before shoving it in her bookbag.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That night, the Hammer walked down to Lockhart’s office on the second-floor corridor, dragging his feet and feeling the dread of being stuck for hours with the pompous ass. The Hammer sighed and knocked on his door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It flew open at once, Lockhart beaming down at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, there’s the scallywag! Come in, Harry, come in.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In contrast to the last time he had been in here, the room was well lit; the candles strategically placed to highlight the countless framed photographs of Lockhart. A few of them were even signed now that he saw them properly. There was another large pile on his desk.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can address the envelopes!” Lockhart told Harry, as though it was a reward rather than his punishment. “This first one’s to Gladys Gudgeon, bless her - huge fan of mine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer tried to turn his brain off and think about the case, replying with a minimal set of grunts, groans, and single word answers, but the man’s voice was somehow piercing with coy sayings like “Fame’s a fickle friend, Harry.” or “Celebrity is as celebrity does, remember that.” At one point Lockhart had put his hand on Harry’s shoulder and given a talk about how he should have tried making a better impression with the Minister of Magic rather than squandering the opportunity to make friends in high places.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If there had been an option to cast the blasting spell on himself, the Hammer would have seriously considered it. Time crawled by with the candles burning lower and lower, making the light dance over the many moving faces of Lockhart watching over them. Harry scribbled out Veronica Smethley’s address - for what felt like the thousandth envelope, praying miserably that it might be time to leave. In the droning silence, the Hammer’s ears perked up. There was that voice again, this time noticing that it was something sublingual, something embedded on a level of his brain that made it easy to discern from the ambient noise.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come… come to me… let me rip you… let me tear you… let me kill you…” Harry’s blood chilled in his veins. It was back, and the idiot in charge of him would think he was crazy. The Hammer cursed under his breath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Now, now. Language, Harry, but I was surprised as well! Six solid months at the top of the bestseller list! Broke all the records!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not that, there’s-” Harry stopped himself, the ostentatious purple quill Lockhart had handed him quivering in his grip. The two stared at each other a moment, neither comprehending what the other wanted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Have - have you ever heard of Tom Riddle?” Harry tried desperately to find something else to say so he might be able to build up an argument.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why no, not at all Harry. Should I have? Is he competition for my own fame?” Lockhart said with an unguarded smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A short series of knocks made the Hammer jump in his chair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, ah, go ahead and finish that envelope, Harry. I’ll get it.” Lockhart stood up with a theatrical swoosh of his robes. It was Professor McGonagall. Harry heard the quiet lilt of her Scottish accent but couldn’t make out what it was she was saying to Lockhart. She had a graven look on her face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mr. Mason,” Lockhart stepped aside as she addressed him, “Your detention is over, but please come with me. Mr. Longbottom is already there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry stood gratefully and walked with her, “What do you mean, already there?’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please, just come with me. I’ll explain when we arrive.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry’s heart sank, realizing they were on the way to the hospital wing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What happened to Hermione? Is she hurt? Is she dead? Tell me!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, she’s not dead, now please keep it down, Mr. Mason. She wasn’t the only one.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Professor McGonagall put a gentle hand on his back before she pushed open the door to reveal Madam Pomfrey bent over Penelope Clearwater, and on the bed next to her was,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hermione!” Harry cried out and ran to her bedside. Neville was already there with her, his head in his hands and shaking. Hermione was absolutely still, her eyes open and glassy. Harry began to shake.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They found her near the library,” Professor McGonagall explained, “I don’t suppose either of you can explain this? It was on the floor next to them…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She held up a small, circular mirror from the nightstand. The Hammer took it from her and examined it - seeing one of Hermione’s hands still in a position like she was holding onto its handle. All the Hammer’s thoughts came to a halt: the journal.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Professor, did you find anything else with her? Her schoolbooks? Her bag?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I - yes, both hers and Miss Clearwater’s were scattered around like they had been hit in a typhoon. There were papers everywhere. Mr. Longbottom helped gather and separate some of her things from Miss Clearwater’s.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nev, is it-?” He asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Neville took his hands from his face, revealing red and puffy eyes, his cheeks still streaked and shiny. Harry wanted to do the same, but the feeling of the dagger in his chest drove him onward. Neville shook his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer’s knees buckled. He caught himself up on the side of Hermione’s bed and put his forehead onto her hand. It felt like a layer of ice had settled over something that had been warm. Something wet trickled down the side of his cheek.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll… I’ll leave you a few moments. I shan’t be far. Come find me when you’re ready and I shall escort you back to your common room.” the Professor said before walking away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry gripped what little he could of her fingers, feeling the tumbling feeling in his stomach as hot and cold waves crashed over it in a storm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s my fault, Hammer. I didn’t find a spell in time.” Neville sniffed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, Nev. Don’t you say that - we,” Harry fought against his own rising emotion, “We didn’t know. We couldn’t know. I’m the one that gave her that book, and now she’s here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How could anyone know about it, Hammer?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I should’ve known. This whole thing has been nothing but trouble. Should’ve been more careful. It should’ve been me in there.” Harry felt Hermione’s other hand, finding it clenched loosely to her side like she had been trying to hide something. The expression on her face was a determined one, the barely tamed bushiness of her hair framing it. Harry reached his fingers into her clenched hand and heard something crinkle. It was the familiar sound of crunching parchment. Looking around, he grabbed a set of tweezers off a tray nearby and knelt down next to the bed, extricating the paper she had been holding onto.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Uncrumpling the sheet carefully, he found that it was covered front and back with her tidy shorthand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Neville, I think she figured it out!” Harry called his friend over to his side.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A-a b-b-basilisk, Hammer?” Neville hissed out a whisper, looking around to make sure that nobody else had heard.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I - give me a minute, Nev. I’m going to step out for some air. If McGonagall asks, I’ll be right outside.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry slipped the paper into his pocket and lifted his hat up just enough to run his hand through his hair before stepping out into the corridor. He took a sidestep and leaned his back against the cool stone, noticing Percy Weasley on a bench next to him, looking paler than usual. Percy spoke when he noticed Harry standing near him, “Your girl in there too?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer grunted his response, trying to put together the bigger picture, his fingers sliding over the crumpled parchment in his pocket. He wasn't going to let Percy see it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ever heard of the name Pettigrew?” Harry asked after turning around to collect himself, staring down at the worn stones of the floor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I- er - no.” Percy replied.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nobody by that name in Gryffindor?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No one I’ve heard of.” Percy said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a silence afterward, the two of them staring at different torches on the wall.</span>
</p>
<p> <span>"Thankfully the teachers have the Mandrakes on the way." Percy broke the quiet, " they'll be back up and around before we know it. "</span></p>
<p>
  <span>"Except it doesn't solve the heart of the problem." The Hammer found himself replying, "They still haven't found who caused the attacks."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm sure they're doing their utmost. We should be patient and listen to them."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Like hell, Percy. I'm going to find who did it and I'm going to make them pay. It's personal now."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"No you won't! You'll listen to the Headmaster and the other professors like the rest of us." </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"For them to do nothing? To play the sap like you're doing while you're sitting on your hands and your sweetheart’s lying in there like a damn popsicle?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Percy sputtered, unable to come up with a response fast enough.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Listen, " Harry told him, a new fire in his eyes and a speech he had memorized coming to mind, “This isn’t a damned bit of good. You’ll never understand me, but I’ll try once more then we'll give it up. Listen. When a man's partner is attacked he's supposed to do something about it. It doesn't make any difference what you thought of her. She was your partner and you're supposed to do something about it. Then it happens we were in the detective business. Well, when one of your organization gets hurt it's bad business to let the attacker get away with it. It's bad all around - bad for that one organization, bad for every detective everywhere. Third, I’m a detective and asking me to stop when I’m this,” He held a hand with thumb and forefinger almost touching, “close to solving the case is like asking a dog to catch a hare and let it go. It can be done, alright, and sometimes it is done, but it’s not the natural thing. If I let this go it’s like letting Hermione, Penelope, Luna, Justin, Colin and Myrtle go, letting them down-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can’t be serious,” Percy said, “you’re a second year, you can’t-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait till I’m through and then you can whine and make excuses. Fourth, no matter what I wanted to do now, it would be absolutely impossible for me to let this go without risking even more attacks. Next, I’ve got no reason in this whole forsaken castle to trust the rest of the administration if the Ministry can come waltzing in here and remove the Chief and Hagrid just to look busy. Sixth, there’s something to it, something right here everyone is missing that I’ll put all my Galleons on that Hermione figured out. I just need to know what it is and we can call the troops in on it.” The Hammer was breathing hard now, the fire alight in his belly redoubling his focus and fuelled by an anger he hadn’t ever felt before.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Percy, on the other hand, stared wide eyed, his pale face blanched, unsure of what to say in response to that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m going to go get Nev and head back to Ravenclaw tower. I have things to think about. You can sit here with your shiny prefect’s badge and faith in a broken system to solve your problems, but I’m not going to.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>****</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer took small solace on his four-poster that they would soon learn that rounding up the usual suspects was doing them no good. Hagrid was long gone and the menace persisted. Under the light of his wand, Harry read over Hermione’s notes. They trailed off at the end and he suspected there might’ve been another page, but the important part had been there. She thought it was a Basilisk that lived in the Chamber - a giant snake with big yellow eyes and the power to kill people by looking at them. It matched some of Myrtle’s description. An underlined word carried out her theory: the pipes. It could travel the castle in the plumbing. Common legend had it that the beast could only be felled by a cock’s crow or weasel effluvium, whatever the hell that was. Harry trusted her finding implicitly - he would have to order something from the Twins that could emit a rooster’s crow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It made sense that someone had killed all of Hagrid’s birds now. The line of spiders fleeing the scene even made sense - one was the superior predator and the weaker was said to flee from it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The question still lingered as he lay down to sleep: why was it that nobody had actually died from it yet?</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Chapter 18</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>A new pressure mounted on the Hammer’s shoulders the next day when Professor Flitwick stepped through the eagle door of the common room to give an announcement before anyone could head to breakfast.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“All students will return to their house common rooms by six o’clock in the evening. No student is to leave the dormitories after that time. You will be escorted to each lesson by a teacher. No student is to use the bathroom unaccompanied by a teacher. All further Quidditch training and matches are to be postponed. There will be no more evening activities.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Ravenclaws all listened in abject silence as Flitwick read the announcement.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Needless to say, it will be difficult for now, but we will persevere. It is, however, a very real possibility that the school may be closed unless the culprit behind these attacks is caught. No one has died yet, but it is quickly becoming clear that this mystery attacker is a clear and present danger. I would urge anyone who thinks they might know anything about these actions with the facts to support it, to come forward.” He looked about the room, pausing for a moment when he made eye contact with Harry. When no one spoke, he cleared his throat before exiting back through the eagle door. The Hammer ran a hand down his face, thinking alone with his hand on his chin as the rest of the Ravenclaws fell into heated discussion.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It has to be a Slytherin - at least one of every other house has been attacked. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>heir</span>
  </em>
  <span> of Slytherin? Slytherin’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>monster</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Surely it’s one of them.” Terry Boot’s deductions came in at a shout over the general murmur of the crowd.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer sat in a chair by the fireside wishing he had a glass of bourbon - even just to hold onto so he might be able to channel some of his heroes. Shutting down the school was a dumb idea - the monster was going to still be here whether or not there were people in it, and as far as the Hammer could tell it had managed to survive at least fifty years without being let loose into the student population. He didn’t want to go home. He needed to solve the mystery. He needed to talk to Neville. He wanted to talk to Hermione.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not long after, Robert Hilliard led everyone down to breakfast when another teacher showed up at their door, the feeling of moving in a house sized herd giving everyone a sense of security but making the Hammer feel more alone than ever. In the Great Hall, Harry made a bee line over to the Gryffindor table when he spotted the Weasley Twins, skipping over taking his usual seat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, heya, Hammer,” They both looked up to greet him from speaking with Ginny - she looked pale and shaken at the news they had all received this morning, her complexion more pallid than he had seen before.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gents, I’ve got an emergency order. Nothing off-colour, I just need something done right and done quick.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They looked between each other and back to Harry, “Uh, sure, Hammer. We can see about it - what is it you’re looking for?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I need something that can reliably make a rooster’s crow.” Harry said, putting down a fistful of Galleons on the table next to George. George covered it with his hand immediately and looked around, “You know, if you had just wanted a wheeze, you could’ve mail ordered it from Zonko’s, but we’ll have it for you tomorrow.” He spoke carefully and slowly, a certain amount of trepidation on his face when he saw the wild look in Harry’s eye.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer went back over to his usual seat at the Ravenclaw table and grabbed a handful of toast and scooped some eggs onto it to make a quick sandwich before turning back to Neville,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nev, help me out here. If a basilisk can kill with a single look why was it nobody else died so far?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Neville accidentally ran a greasy hand through his own hair, making a face when he realized what he had done. “I-I dunno, it’s strange. Can I see that parchment you got from Hermione?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer gave it to him, puzzling over what it was they were missing. Neville wasn’t able to come up with anything more as they were rushed from their meal and separated for classes, Professor Flitwick escorting a group of them away for the first day’s lesson. Harry spent the day in a fog, running over the facts of the old case with the new one, flashes of Myrtle’s face and Hermione’s playing out in his head. It had been an extremely close call. The Hammer shuddered. It wouldn’t have been the same with a spectral Hermione nagging him to follow the rules.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>George came to him at breakfast the next day with his order, setting it down on the table next to his silverware.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re not just taking the mickey, are you George?” Harry asked, picking it up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“‘Course not! You said it was a rush job, so we had to use something we already had. This keeps it topical, doesn’t it?” He said with a subdued grin, “What is it you needed it for?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m going hunting,” the Hammer said, “for a monster.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Neville came back with the paper neatly folded, handing Hermione’s notes back to Harry, “it has to be something to do with the mirror, Hammer.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The way she was holding it…” The Hammer bit his lip, rubbing his dark ringed eyes. He felt like he hadn’t slept well in months.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe she was using it to look.” Neville drank from a mug of coffee - he hadn’t been quite right since Luna.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s it! You’re a genius, Nev!” Harry pulled out his notebook and started to flip through it, “Come with me! I want to take this to Longbaugh!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They looked up at the few teachers in the room with them, seeing that Longbaugh was out on patrol or in his class, Harry tapped Neville and indicated one of the side doors. They slipped out while no one was looking at them, heading out in the direction of the Muggle Studies class.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was all about the angles, Nev.” Harry explained his logic on the way, “Hermione and Penelope only got petrified because she was being careful with the mirror. Justin and Luna-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Saw it through Nick!” Neville caught onto the game.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And Mrs. Norris was drinking from the puddle, so she saw the reflection!” “And Colin’s got one of those cameras with a mirror in the viewfinder!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But what about Myrtle?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She saw it directly, Nev. But I think she might’ve been sitting on the answer the whole time!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re saying the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is in the girl’s loo?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes! It makes sense why there’d be a boy in that lavatory and how she died so immediately!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They came to a halt when Professor McGonagall’s voice echoed through the corridors, magically amplified.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“All students are to return to their house dormitories at once. All teachers return to the staff room. Immediately please.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer looked round and saw that they were right next to the staff room. He dragged Neville in with him and found there was a large, ugly wardrobe full of the teacher’s cloaks, hiding them both inside. The time passed with the rumble of all the students moving back to their houses for a while before the staff room door banged open. The two watched through the crack between the wardrobe doors as teachers filed in looking anything from puzzled to scared. Finally, Professor McGonagall arrived, stone faced as she closed the door behind her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It has happened,” She spoke, her voice like a leaden echo in the silent staff room, “A student has been taken by the monster. Right into the Chamber itself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Professor Flitwick let out a squeal. Professor Sprout clapped her hands over her mouth. Snape gripped the back of a chair til his knuckles turned white and asked, “How can you be sure?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The heir of Slytherin,” Professor McGonagall continued, paler than Harry had ever seen her, “left another message. Right underneath the first one. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber for ever</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Professor Flitwick burst into tears. Professor Longbaugh had pulled out a small pipe and was stuffing it robotically.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who is it?” Madam Hooch asked, having sunken into a chair, “which student?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ginny Weasley.” Professor McGonagall said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We shall have to send all the students home tomorrow.” She continued, “this is the end of Hogwarts. Dumbledore always said…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The staff room door banged open again, catching everyone off guard. Professor Longbaugh held a small, cheery flame at the tip of his wand not far from the pipe in his mouth. It was Professor Lockhart, fashionably late.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry - dozed off - what have I missed?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t seem to notice that the other teachers were looking at him with something remarkably like hatred. Snape stepped forward.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just the man,” he said, “the very man. A girl has been snatched by the monster, Lockhart. Taken into the Chamber of Secrets itself. Your moment has come at last.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lockhart blanched.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s right, Gilderoy,” Professor Sprout chipped in, “Weren't’ you saying just last night you’ve known all along where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I - well, I -” Lockhart babbled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, didn’t you tell me you were sure you knew what was inside it?” Professor Flitwick added.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did I? I don’t recall…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I certainly remember you saying you were sorry you hadn’t had a crack at the monster before Hagrid was arrested,” said Snape, “didn’t you say the whole affair had been bungled, and that you should have been given a free rein from the first?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I seem to remember you said you had just the right spell to take down the monster.” Longbaugh said after taking a puff on his pipe, the smoke ring he blew to the ceiling circling as a dragon before dissipating.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lockhart stared around at his stony-faced colleagues.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I… I really never… You may have misunderstood…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ll leave it to you then, Gilderoy.” Professor McGonagall said, “tonight would be an excellent time to do it. We’ll make sure everyone’s out of your way. You’ll be able to tackle the monster all by yourself. A free rein at last.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lockhart gazed desperately around him, but nobody came to the rescue. He looked like the result of a bad decision the morning after. His lip was trembling and in the absence of his usually toothy grin he looked weak-chinned and weedy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“V-very well,” he said, “I’ll-I’ll be in my office, getting - getting ready.” And he left the room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right,” Professor McGonagall said with a little flare of her nostrils, “that’s got </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span> out from under our feet.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Longbaugh lifted himself from the counter he was leaning on, “I’m going to go make sure he doesn’t get himself killed, Minerva.” She nodded as Longbaugh stepped out the door, spurs jingling down the hall.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The heads of Houses should go and inform their students what has happened. Tell them the Hogwarts Express will take them home first thing tomorrow. Will the rest of you please make sure no students have been left outside their dormitories?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The teachers rose and left one by one.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Waiting till all of the professors were well and truly gone, Harry and Neville stepped out of the wardrobe.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They took Fred &amp; George’s sister.” Neville said, a haunted look on his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s a dame who didn’t deserve it. First year at Hogwarts and now she’s caught up in all of this. No wonder she looked so pale.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You think she knew something, Hammer?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe, Nev, maybe. But </span>
  <em>
    <span>we </span>
  </em>
  <span>definitely know a few things. We should go after Longbaugh. He’ll have the solution to this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The two of them went down to the DADA office, Longbaugh’s voice carrying down the hall clearly before they even got near it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What the hell, Gilderoy?” Longbaugh yelled, “You said that you were going to try and help that girl and now you’re packing up to run?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well - I - “ Lockhart mumbled a response that Harry couldn’t hear. The two children ran faster.</span>
</p>
<p><span>“You’re the goddamn Defence against the Dark Arts teacher! You’re supposed to be the expert on this!” Longbaugh continued, “Even if you’re incompetent you can at least stay to help the rest of us instead of acting like a coward!”</span><span><br/></span> <span>“Well you see, there’s an urgent call…” Lockhart trailed off, there was the sound of drawers being emptied.</span></p>
<p>
  <span>“What about all those books, Gilderoy?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, you see, books can be misleading.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span> wrote them. They’ve all got your face in them at least four times apiece!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry slowed down, putting a hand across Neville’s chest to get him to do the same, finishing their approach to the door by sneaking up to it and peering through the opening just enough to watch the exchange play out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well they wouldn’t have sold as well if people didn’t firmly believe </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> had done all those things. No one wants to read about some ugly old Armenian warlock, even if he did save a village from werewolves. He’d look dreadful on the cover. No dress sense at all. And the witch who banished the Bandon Banshee had a hairy chin. I mean, come on…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is there anything you’re actually good at, Gilderoy?” Harry and Neville had drawn their wands. The Hammer felt more vindicated than ever.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, my research. I had to track all these people down and ask them things, and my memory charms-” The two children watched as Lockhart began to reach into his coat whilst Longbaugh was turned away, trying to contain his disgust.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Expelliarmus!” Harry and Neville burst into the room, interrupting Lockhart’s conniving, blasting him backward over his trunk and his wand flying through the air to Neville. Longbaugh spun back around and drew his revolver in the same motion, pointing it at the helpless Lockhart.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Get in the chair, Gildreoy.” Longbaugh narrowed his eyes, thumbing the hammer back and waving the revolver at the chair in the room. “Thanks for the save, boys. I should’ve known it would be you two.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It-it was a misunderstanding!” Lockhart spoke with a quaver as he scooted sideways to the chair, both of his hands up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Put your arms down you idiot.” Longbaugh commanded him, allowing Lockhart to lower his arms down before saying, “Incarcerous!” In a commanding tone. Ropes appeared and bound Lockhart to his chair, tying him up at the hands, arms, legs and torso.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Professor, I want to find out what he actually knows.” Harry tugged on Longbaugh’s duster. The cowboy looked down at him and decocked the revolver, placing it back in the holster.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t think he knows much, Harry. But sure. I think I owe you this much.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re going to leave me with them?” Lockhart spoke pleadingly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure, Gilderoy. I mean, what’s the harm a couple kids could do?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tipped his hat to Harry and Neville before saying, “When you’re done, or if you need me I’ll be outside.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He left, closing the office door behind him. Lockhart whimpered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry turned around to face Lockhart, looking to Neville a moment before saying, “What do you actually know about the Chamber of Secrets? About these attacks?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Harry, my boy, I-” He stopped, taking a large gulp as the Hammer pulled the pair of pliers out from his belt pouch.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s see if messing up your chances for Witch Weekly’s most charming smile gets you to tell the truth.” The Hammer stepped forward and started to shove the pliers up against Lockhart’s lips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know anything, Harry! Please! All I’ve ever done in my life is research people’s accomplishments and record them for posterity! I claimed to do all of it and then modified all their memories! It’s the only thing I’m good at!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer put one knee down onto the chair between Lockhart’s legs and grabbed the man’s collar with his other hand, getting leverage.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uhm, Hammer...” Neville started to speak, but trailed off.</span>
</p>
<p><span>“There were fans too! They came to me in awe of my celebrity and they were so willing!”</span><span><br/></span> <span>The Hammer raised an eyebrow, but kept the pliers where they were. Lockhart kept on talking, the words tumbling out of his mouth in a deluge.</span></p>
<p> <span>“Some of them were young! I had to modify their memories or else it would’ve been seen as improper! I had a sense! I knew they wanted it!”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, and what about this teaching job?” Harry pushed, looking back to Neville who stood with his mouth agape, unsure of what to do.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was supposed to be a way to garner more fame! I wanted to meet my younger fans! I wanted to </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> them! I could mould the girls just the way I wanted, they loved me, your friend Hermione, I had such plans-” Harry’s blood ran cold. He shoved the pliers over one of Lockhart’s front teeth and started pulling to get him to shut up. He didn’t want or need to hear more. The Hammer could feel the corners of his mouth tugging down, his whole face going into a snarl.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lockhart started screaming as the root gave way, his voice gurgling as the blood started coming out. Harry tossed the tooth out of the nearby window.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nev. Go get Sundance. We just solved a bunch of crimes we didn’t know were happening.” Neville, pale and shaking, nodded before heading out the door. Harry cleaned up his bloody pliers on Lockhart’s silk robes, the captive man sobbing in pain. That left him with the one mystery, and one person left to talk to: Myrtle Warren.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Harry, what the fuck did you do?” Longbaugh asked as soon as he walked in, seeing the Hammer standing a few feet from a bloodied Lockhart, pliers still in hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s guilty of a whole lot of memory wiping and… and... some... things with students. Girls my age. I don’t know what or how much. He copped to enough I pulled a tooth to get him to shut up. You need to call the police, Professor. Or whatever passes for that in the wizarding world.” The Hammer told him, stone faced, the dark rings under his eyes and the set of his jaw making him look a decade older than he should have been.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Harry - you - are you OK?” Longbaugh took in a deep breath, releasing it in a slow hiss.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have to go, Professor. I can save that girl.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Harry I can’t let anyone go from what you’re telling me. You and Neville are still students. I’m responsible for your safety.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t stay, Professor. I’ll fight you if I have to, but I have to run this lead down before it’s too late. I can save Ginny. That stupid snake-speak I can do might be the difference between life and death. Please.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Longbaugh reached a hand up toward the Hammer and stopped, taking another look around the room, placing his face into his other palm for a moment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I really, really want to doubt it, Harry; but my gut is telling me to let you go. Where are you headed to? I’m going to tell Professor McGonagall so we can send help after you when she gets here.  Neville’s going to stay. I can’t justify sending him with you. If you can open that Chamber thing, you do it, but don’t go inside by yourself. Do you understand me? We’ll be there as soon as we can to help.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry looked to his friend and back, “First floor girl’s lavatory. The one with Moaning Myrtle in it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Longbaugh nodded. Harry ran.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Chapter 19</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Oh, it’s you.” Myrtle batted her eyelashes as the Hammer ran in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Myrtle, where did you say you saw those eyes?” Harry cut straight to the chase, looking up and down the lavatory.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Somewhere there,” Myrtle pointed vaguely toward the sink in front of her toilet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer walked over and began to look it over, top to bottom.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tell me again, what did that strange language sound like to you?” Harry asked as he traced his fingers down the side of the mirror, feeling the cold of the old iron frame.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know - it didn’t sound like anything I’ve ever heard before. Maybe like heavy rain or a handful of sand sliding on metal.” She said to him. On the side of one of the tarnished copper taps was a tiny snake raised in the embossing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That tap’s never worked,” Myrtle said with a hint of glee when Harry turned it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, good sign.” The Hammer muttered under his breath as he ran his finger over the snake again, “good sign.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tried tapping his wand against it - nothing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Open sesame.” he said. Myrtle giggled. Nothing happened.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry wracked his brain trying to figure it out, trying to make himself speak in Parseltongue as much as he couldn’t believe he could speak it. He thought back to the garden snake in Diagon Alley commenting on the weather, back to commanding the snake in Justin’s presence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Open!” He said, and this time, instead of Myrtle giggling, he heard a strange hissing escape his lips like the air from a balloon.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oooh, that was it!” Myrtle said, awe in her voice as the tap began to glow with a brilliant white light and began to spin in its mount. In the next second the sink began to move. The sink, in fact, sank right out of sight, leaving a large pipe wide enough for a grown man to slide into. Or a giant mythical snake to slither up out of.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer looked at the door, thinking of Longbaugh’s instructions and his guarantee for help. In any situation otherwise he would have trusted the man, but there wasn’t time. Harry looked to Myrtle, who gave him a coy smile with both hands behind her back. He steeled himself to go. This was it: he was in for it when all the chips were down. Was he a detective or a flobberworm?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Harry,” Myrtle said to him, interrupting his mental pep talk. He looked back up at her, “If you die down there, you can share my toilet.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks, doll.” he said before placing his hand on his hat and sitting down onto the edge of the pipe and easing himself in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Easing himself in didn’t help. He picked up speed immediately going down what felt like an endless, slimy, dark slide. There were more pipes branching off in innumerable directions, but none of them were as large as the one he had jumped into. The darkness continued to rush by, the depth of his fall feeling like he had passed the lake and the dungeon for miles. The slimy dark just kept on going.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Just as he began to worry about casting a spell to fix his legs when they inevitably broke on the impact of his landing, the pipe leveled out and he shot out the end and skidded to a stop with a wet thud, a strange crunching underneath him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lumos!” Harry lit his wand to reveal that he had landed on a bed of decaying animal bones, from the look of it, mostly rats. He got up with a shudder, his hand touching the slimy walls to help him stand. He didn’t know how far the tunnel had dumped him out, but from the temperature and the slime, he guessed he had come out under the lake, somewhere.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even with a lit wand, the darkness was oppressive, the echo of his damp footsteps dying on the stones as he made his way forward. It seemed like there were a lot of ways in at various sizes, but only one way he could walk. He wished Neville could have been down here with him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Around a bend in the dark tunnel, the edge of something at the furthest reaches of his wandlight made the Hammer freeze. Just barely, he could see the outline of something enormous, undulating, and absolutely still. A chilly feeling in his spine, the Hammer took a cautious shuffle step forward. And then another. And another.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The light slid over a snake skin the length of an overground bus. His breath caught in his throat, he found that the skin was somehow still a vivid acid green, despite being curled and empty. The disheartening fact that snakes shed their skins to grow larger crossed his mind and he hated that he knew it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer fixed his heart and took a step forward into its midst. The next step was easier, but he didn’t find himself any less scared. He needed to rescue Ginny. He needed to solve the case.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Leaving the skin behind, he followed the twisting path of the tunnel that loomed over him, following it into the unknown depths of the school. It was ambivalence - wanting the tunnel itself to end so he could get where he needed to go and yet dreading what it was he would find on the other end. After a final bend, a wall with two intertwining serpents came up to him, their eyes set with enormous emeralds glinting under the light of his wand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even in the muted light of the spell, the snakes had taken on their own sort of life, the shake of his hand making their shadows dance in the dark. The Hammer cleared his throat,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Open.” Harry commanded, the word forming as a faint hiss.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The serpents parted and the wall cracked open, two halves sliding out of sight with nothing but the sound of stone grinding on stone. His fist gripped to white knuckles on his wand, the Hammer stepped into the new dark.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>*</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The next chamber was long and dimly lit. Stone pillars entwined with more carved serpents towered up into the darkness above him, supporting a ceiling he couldn't see; their shadows long and black through the odd greenish gloom. The Hammer closed one eye and tried to listen for the telltale sounds of a snake, some kind of slithering, that deadly voice he had heard before. Nothing. Where was Ginny?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Each step forward echoed off the walls. The Hammer tread with paranoid care over each stone, one eye closed and the other squinted and prepared to close in the event the snake reared its ugly head. Nothing did, though. Nothing but the hollow eyes of the carved stone snakes following his toiling progress to the back of the chamber.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Past the last set of pillars, a statue as large as the Chamber itself loomed over him, its back against the far wall. The form was that of an ancient wizard whose beard extended almost all the way down to the bottom of his robes, interrupted only by two enormous, grey stone feet at the chamber floor. Between the two feet, face down, lay a small black robed figure with flaming red hair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer broke into a hurried shuffle step, swinging his wand left and right while maintaining his one-eyed squint to make sure nothing was sneaking up on him as he approached the unconscious girl on the floor. He set his wand down and turned her over. Her face was white as marble, her skin pallid and cold. She was unconscious, but malleable, which meant she hadn’t been petrified.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“C’mon, Gin, wake up.” The Hammer shook her gently, touching two fingers to her neck and feeling a weak pulse as her head lolled to one side.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She won’t wake.” A voice spoke from the outer darkness.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The form of a black haired boy was leaning against the nearest pillar, watching. He was the shade of campfire smoke, like someone had spritzed a fresh painting with water. The Hammer could barely put together why, but his face was unmistakable.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tom.” Harry said, his eyes still narrowed, “Care to tell me why?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, she’s still alive,” Riddle lifted himself from the pillar and walked toward him, “but only just.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You, uh, some kind of ghost, Tom?” Harry asked, shifting himself around Ginny to face him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A memory,” Riddle whispered, “Preserved in a diary for fifty years.” He pointed toward the floor near the statue’s toes. The little black diary that Harry had found in Myrtle’s bathroom lay open on the stone floor. The Hammer cocked an eyebrow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You gonna help, Tom? Or are you just gonna stand there lying to me again?” Harry tried to move Ginny, managing to get one of her arms over his shoulders before bending down to grab for his wand. The Hammer’s head flicked up to see that Riddle was still watching him, but now he was twirling Harry’s wand between his fingers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So you knew.” Tom said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I took a pretty good guess.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You even tried to hide your real name, Harry Potter.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s Potter-Mason. I like that name. It’s both my dads’ names”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Either way, I’ve been waiting to talk to you for a long time, Harry Potter.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer rolled his eyes, “What did you do to Ginny?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, that’s an interesting question,” Riddle said with a false joviality, “I suppose the reason Ginny Weasley got this way is because she opened her heart and spilled all her secrets to an invisible stranger.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She’s been writing in your little black book all year.” Harry concluded. Ron’s concern made a lot more sense now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She’s been telling me everything for months and months, all her pitiful worries and woes; how her brothers tease her, how she had to come to school with second-hand robes and books and how,” Riddle had a sneer on his face, “how she didn’t think the famous, good, great detective Harry Potter would ever notice her.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer looked down at her unconscious form, feeling a little guilty. He hadn’t noticed. Riddle never stopped staring at Harry’s face, a hungry look in his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s so very </span>
  <em>
    <span>boring</span>
  </em>
  <span>, having to listen to the silly little troubles of an eleven year old girl,” Tom kept talking, “But I was patient. I wrote back, I was sympathetic, I was kind. Ginny loved me. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No one’s ever understood me like you, Tom… I’m ever so glad I’ve got this diary to confide in… It’s like having a friend I can carry round in my pocket…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Riddle laughed, high and cold. It didn’t match the rugged youth of his face. The Hammer clenched his teeth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If I say so myself, Harry, I’ve always been able to charm the people I needed. So Ginny poured out her soul to me, and her soul happened to be exactly what I wanted. I grew stronger and stronger on a diet of her deepest fears, her darkest secrets. I grew powerful, far more powerful than little Miss Weasley. Powerful enough to start feeding Miss Weasley a few of my secrets, to start pouring a little of </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> soul back into her…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So you used her. For what?’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t you see, Harry? I made her open the Chamber of Secrets. She strangled the roosters and daubed threatening messages on the walls. She set the serpent of Slytherin on those Mudbloods and the Squib’s cat.” The hell was a squib?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re a son of a bitch, Tom.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If only you knew. She didn’t know she was doing it at first. It was very amusing. I wish you could have seen her new diary entries. They became far more interesting: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dear Tom,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” He recited with glee while looking into Harry’s dark expression, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I think I’m losing my memory. There are rooster feathers all over my robes and I don’t know how they got there. Dear Tom, I can’t remember what I did on the night of Hallowe’en but a cat was attacked and I’ve got paint all down my front. Dear Tom, Percy keeps telling me I’m pale and I’m not myself. I think he suspects me… there was another attack today and I don’t know where I was. Tom, what am I going to do? I think I’m going mad… I think I’m the one attacking everyone, Tom!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry ground his back teeth together, glaring at the misty figure.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It took a very long time for stupid little Ginny to stop trusting her diary,” Riddle said, “But she finally became suspicious and tried to dispose of it. And that’s where you came in, Harry-” Riddle stopped a moment, like it was the first time he had actually taken a look at him, “What-what year is it? Did you lie to me? You’re dressed exactly like those filthy muggles that were around.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry raised an eyebrow. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, regardless, I couldn’t have been more delighted to have it be you. Of all the people it could have been, the person I was most anxious to meet…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah? Why me?” The Hammer’s hand strayed back to Ginny’s porcelain neck, feeling her pulse again to make sure she was still with him. He laid her down gently and stood to face Riddle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, you see, Ginny told me all about you, Harry. Your whole fascinating history,” his eyes roved over the spot above Harry’s right eye, the hunger in his expression deepening, “I knew I needed to find out more about you, talk to you, meet you if I could. So I decided to show you my famous capture of that great oaf, Hagrid, to gain your trust.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Except I wasn’t buying your snake oil. You framed an innocent man for the work of a monster.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Riddle laughed his villain’s laugh.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was my word against Hagrid’s, Harry. Well you can imagine how it looked to old Armando Dippet. On the one hand, Tom Riddle, poor but brilliant, parentless but so </span>
  <em>
    <span>brave</span>
  </em>
  <span>, school Prefect, model student; on the other hand, big blundering Hagrid, in trouble every other week, trying to raise werewolf cubs under his bed, sneaking off to the Forbidden Forest to wrestle trolls. But I admit, even </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> was surprised how well the plan worked. I thought </span>
  <em>
    <span>someone</span>
  </em>
  <span> must realise that Hagrid couldn’t possibly be the heir of Slytherin. It had taken</span>
  <em>
    <span> me</span>
  </em>
  <span> five whole years to find out everything I could about the Chamber of Secrets and discover the secret entrance… as though Hagrid had the brains, or the power!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re lucky the Ministry can’t tell their eye from their ass, Tom. I bet you the Chief knew.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The Chief? Who’s he? The only one who suspected was the Transfiguration teacher, Dumbledore. He was the one who persuaded Dippet to keep Hagrid on as gameskeeper. Yes, I think Dumbledore might have guessed. Dumbledore never seemed to like me as much as the other teachers did…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s the Chief. He seems like a pretty good judge of character. He knows more than he lets on.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well he certainly kept an annoyingly close watch on me after Hagrid was expelled. I knew it wouldn’t be safe to open the Chamber again whilst I was still at school. But I wasn’t going to waste those long years I’d spent searching for it. I decided to leave behind a diary, preserving my sixteen year old self in its pages, so that one day, with luck, I would be able to lead another in my footsteps and finish Salazar Slytherin’s noble work.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cute trick, Tom. How’d you do it? Making the diary.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Riddle scoffed, “It is the Darkest of magic. Most complex and to some, vile; but I did it with ease. I used the soul of that mudblood in the lavatory. I left part of my soul in these pages and through it, I cannot die.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well you can’t succeed either, Tom. Nobody’s dead yet. Not even the cat, and you just copped to murdering Myrtle up there so I’ve got all the answers I need.”</span>
</p>
<p><span>Riddle gave a wicked grin, “Haven’t I already told you that killing Mudbloods doesn’t matter to me anymore? For many months now, my new target has been </span><em><span>you</span></em><span>.”</span><span><br/></span> <span>“I’m flattered, but I’m not into boys.”</span></p>
<p><span>Riddle’s expression grew more angry, “Imagine how livid I was when the next time my diary was opened and it was that filthy Mudlbood who was writing to me, not you. Ginny saw that you had handed off the diary to that mudblood girl and panicked. She offered to help her with my silence and I used her then, to attack your best friend and sweeten the pot. It was clear to me that you were on the trail of Slytherin’s heir and you would go to any lengths to solve the mystery. She had told me the whole school was abuzz because you could speak Parseltongue…</span><span><br/></span> <span>“So I made Ginny write her own farewell on the wall and come down here to wait. She struggled and cried and became very boring. But there isn’t much life left in her: she put too much into the diary, into me. Enough to let me leave its pages at last. I have been waiting for you to appear since we arrived here. I knew you’d come. I have many questions for you, Harry Potter.” Harry’s eyes darted around the room - Riddle was too far to attack directly and Ginny was an open invitation. He only had the time to stall.</span></p>
<p>
  <span>“Like what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well,” Riddle smiled like they were at high tea, “how is it that a baby with no extraordinary magical talent managed to beat the greatest wizard of all time? How did </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> escape with nothing but a scar, while Lord Voldemort’s powers were destroyed?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tom had a literal red-eyed look of insatiable madness to him, looking the Hammer over with a jitter like a junkie looking to score.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s it matter to you, Tom? Voldemort wasn’t a problem for your time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Voldemort,” Riddle with great care, making sure to emphasize every syllable, “is my past, present and future, Harry Potter…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He used Harry’s wand to trace through the air, writing three shimmering words:</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then he waved the wand once and the letters of his name rearranged themselves,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I AM LORD VOLDEMORT”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You see?” Tom said in a whisper, “It was a name I was already using at Hogwarts, to my most intimate friends only of course. You think I was going to use my filthy Muggle father’s name for ever? I, in whose veins runs the blood of Salazar Slytherin himself, through my mother’s side? I, keep the name of a foul, common Muggle, who abandoned me even before I was born, just because he found out his wife was a witch? No, Harry. I fashioned myself a new name, a name I knew wizards everywhere would one day fear to speak when I had become the greatest sorcerer in the world.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The irony wasn’t quite lost on the Hammer, who still had a grudge against Mickey Spillane. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s a dumb name. I’m just going to call you Tom. As far as great sorcerers go, you seem to be pretty bad at this. The Chief’s got a better head on his shoulders than you do and a far better reputation. I mean, you couldn’t even beat a baby. My nappy was probably soiled when you blew yourself up, Tom.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a snarky grin on Harry’s face contrasted to the grim glower on Tom’s. The Hammer knew he was just buying time - the madder he could make the teenage villain, the more mistakes he would make. Harry bet it against the sands falling through Ginny’s hourglass.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>insolent</span>
  </em>
  <span> child. Dumbledore’s been driven out of this castle by the mere </span>
  <em>
    <span>memory</span>
  </em>
  <span> of me!” He yelled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dumbledore left because a bunch of bureaucrats made a dumb decision. Knowing the Chief, I bet he’s got a few aces up his sleeve that aren’t just me. The man knows how to make a plan.” The Hammer said matter of factly, tugging down on the brim of his hat to try and obscure the rising anxiety he felt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Riddle opened his mouth to retort, but froze.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Music was coming from somewhere. Tom turned around to stare down the empty Chamber. The music was growing louder. It was hollow, eerie in a way that ran up the Hammer’s spine. His hair stood on end and his heart swelled. Just as the music reached a pitch that shook the Hammer’s ribs, flames erupted at the top of the nearest pillar.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A deep vermillion bird the size of a swan had appeared, piping the strange music to the vaulted ceiling. It had a glittering golden tail as long as a peacock’s and gleaming golden talons. The bird dove off the pillar and landed heavily on the Hammer’s shoulder. Harry looked up at it as it folded its wings, recognizing the curve of the sharp golden beak and beady black eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The bird stopped singing. It sat still and radiated a comforting warmth next to Harry’s cheek, never breaking its gaze from Riddle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A phoenix…” Riddle said, staring back at it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The Chief was right, you do look a lot better at top form.” The bird squeezed Harry’s shoulder gently.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Riddle began to laugh that high, cold laugh again, the sound of it resonating in the chamber and magnifying his volume tenfold.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is what Dumbledore sends his defender? A songbird! Do you feel brave, Harry Potter? Do you feel safe now?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer scratched underneath Fawke’s belly, waiting for Tom to finish his big evil monologue.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“To business, Harry.” Riddle smiled again, “Twice - in your past, in my </span>
  <em>
    <span>future </span>
  </em>
  <span>we have met. And twice I have failed to kill you. </span>
  <em>
    <span>How did you survive?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Tell me everything. The longer you talk,” he dropped his volume to a sinister threat, “the longer you survive.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t in anyone’s best interest to humour Tom. The longer Harry talked the more of Ginny’s life he would steal - but Tom had the wand and Harry hadn’t ever practised magic without one. Riddle’s outline had become clearer and more solid by the minute. All of his options had dwindled down to the most straightforward: he’d have to try and fight Tom, and it’d be better off sooner than later.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You want the truth? Nobody knows, Tom. You’re the idiot who tried to cast a killing curse on a baby instead of hitting it with a brick. My mother put herself between you and me. My </span>
  <em>
    <span>Muggle</span>
  </em>
  <span>-born mother stopped you from killing me. I killed a professor you were using last year and the real you had to run away screaming all smoke and noise. You’re a top rate git, Tom, too thick to figure out how to do things without trying to prove you’re the best wizard ever.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Riddle lost his cool for a moment before contorting his face into a smile,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So your mother died to save you. I see. That’s a powerful counter-charm. There’s nothing special about you after all. I wondered, you see. Because there are strange likenesses between us, Harry Potter. Even you must have noticed. Both half-bloods, raised by Muggles. Probably the only two Parselmouths to come to Hogwarts since the great Slytherin himself. We even </span>
  <em>
    <span>look</span>
  </em>
  <span> something alike… But after all, it was merely a lucky chance that saved you from me. That’s all I wanted to know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Some days I’d rather be lucky than good.” Harry said, putting his hand over his belt pouch, waiting for Riddle to raise the wand. Instead, Riddle’s smile grew wider.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Now, Harry, I’m going to teach you a little lesson. Let’s match the powers of Lord Voldemort, heir of Salazar Slytherin, against famous Harry Potter, and the best weapons Dumbledore can give him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He cast an amused eye over Fawkes before walking away. Harry felt the twist in his stomach as he watched Riddle stop between the high pillars and look up into the stone face of Slytherin, high above him in the half-darkness. Riddle opened his mouth wide and hissed, words that Harry understood.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Harry had other opinions.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fawkes swayed on his shoulder as Harry turned to look up at the statue. Its face was moving, the mouth slid open into a gaping maw, framing an abyssal darkness. Something was stirring from inside it. The Hammer put some distance between himself and Ginny, pulling his hat down over his face so it blocked everything except for a few bare stones in front of him as he ran. Tom still needed her and the further away he was, the less danger she would be in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stick with me here, pal,” he said to Fawkes, coming to a stop near one of the other pillars, “You’ll know it when it’s time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fawkes gripped his shoulder just shy of painfully to let him know he understood. The bird took wing with the feeling of feathers brushing the Hammer’s cheek - he’d have to trust it. Something huge hit the stone floor of the chamber. Harry couldn’t do anything but keep his back to the pillar as he felt the giant serpent uncoiling itself from within Slytherin’s mouth. Riddle hissed a final command, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Kill him.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>No, kill </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>him</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” The Hammer tried yelling at it, the weird hissing coming out of his throat disconcerting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Parseltongue won’t save you here, Harry! It only obeys my commands!” Riddle gloated.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry moved on, pulling the Weasleys’ creation out of his belt pouch and holding it up in the air above him, his hat still pulled down over his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What? What is that?” Riddle yelled as Harry held up the garishly bright, yellow, rubber bird.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Now, Fawkes!” Harry yelled, squeezing the body of the rubber chicken.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something that sounded like a rooster’s crow emanated from the little joke-shop toy at the volume of a lorry horn. The sound of mad hissing filled in the silence in its wake, the giant serpent swinging from side to side and coming into contact with the other pillars. Fawkes’s screech brought up the rear. The call had been almost spot on for a rooster’s crow, but had it worked?  Harry couldn’t tell.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer crouched and lifted his hat up just a hair, enough to see an enormous snake, acid green from head to tail, thick as an oak trunk with its top half raised up swaying madly and weaving drunkenly between the pillars. Fawkes had followed through, soaring about its head as the Basilisk snapped and lunged furiously at the bird.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fawkes dove, his long golden beak sinking out of sight somewhere in the Basilisk’s head, showering the floor with a dark splatter of blood. The snake’s tail thrashed in Harry’s direction and he dodged, his hat coming loose as he dove to the side. Before he could grab it, the snake turned to face him - but instead of the two bulbous yellow eyes he had expected, the Hammer saw dark pools of blood. Fawkes had stabbed the both of them out and the serpent was spitting in agony.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No!” Riddle screamed, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Leave the bird! Leave the bird! The boy is behind you! You can still smell him! Kill him!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The blinded serpent paused in a sway, confused but still deadly. Fawkes circled around its head, just out of reach, piping out that eerie song from earlier like he was taunting it, jabbing occasionally at the snake’s nose when the opportunity presented itself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer turned to run down the length of the main chamber, moving the rubber chicken to his other hand and using his right to bring out the catapult.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Go! GET HIM!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Riddle screamed as Harry turned around to face the creature, giving the chicken another squeeze before throwing it toward the serpent. The creature made a hiss that passed for a painful scream as it slammed to the ground and began to slither toward the Hammer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry called out the remade firework from his pouch, taking it into his left hand and holding it against his chest, the serpent nearing him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Kill the boy! Kill the boy! He’s behind you! Sniff - smell him!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Tom was still trying to wrangle the basilisk as it came toward Harry. The Hammer went sideways toward one of the chamber walls, jumping out of the way when the snake lunged at him. Harry did a hobbling hop-step backwards without being able to regain his balance, instead landing on his back near a puddle. He jammed the explosive into the water before nocking it into the catapult’s cup. The serpent reared back, its forked tongue lashing out left and right, trying to sense him. Its jaw opened when it recognised where the Hammer lay, its mouth opening to prepare for the lunge, enormous fangs like sabres glinting in the green gloom. The Hammer loosed the orb, praying his aim was true.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The serpent began its lunge before an explosion rocked the chamber, so loud that it felt like Harry had been hit in the chest by a Whomping Willow, knocking loose stones and damp dust from the ceiling. Serpent bits went everywhere, the basilisk’s free flying head continuing in the arc of the strike, a mutilated body behind it, the punctured eyes still bleeding its black blood.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer held up his arms to block the landing, screaming as the snake head struck the ground around his torso, a sharp, searing pain running up from Harry’s right thigh. The Hammer opened his eyes and lowered his arms to find that the Basilisk’s head had mostly missed him. Mostly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A long, poisonous fang had buried itself into his leg and snapped off from the skull near the hilt. Harry rolled what was left of the serpent’s head off of him and reached down to yank on the tooth. White-hot pain was spreading slowly and steadily from the wound. Harry screamed, tears coming from his eyes as the fang came free in his hand, the ivory white tooth covered in a mixture of blood and poison. The Hammer’s vision swam, the whole world going foggy. Even the green miasma of the Chamber seemed to be fading away. It occurred to the Hammer that this would have been the perfect time for a cigarette.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A patch of scarlet swam past and Harry heard the soft ticking of claws beside him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fawkes.” Harry spoke through numbing lips, “Thanks for the help, pal. Too bad…” He felt the bird lay its handsome head on the spot where the serpent’s fang had pierced him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re dead, Harry Potter.” Tom’s voice carried over the sound of his footsteps, a long shadow falling over the Hammer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dead. Even Dumbledore’s bird knows it. Can you see what he’s doing, Potter? He’s crying.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry blinked. Fawkes’s head slid in and out of focus. Thick, pearly tears were trickling down the glossy feathers. Part of Harry wondered if his mum and dad would cry like that at the funeral. Petunia would make such a scene. He didn’t want to die.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m going to sit here and watch you die, Harry Potter. Take your time. I’m in no hurry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer felt drowsy, he wanted to say something to Tom, but couldn’t bring himself to do it. Everything around him seemed to be spinning.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So ends the famous Harry Potter.” Riddle kept monologuing, “Alone in the Chamber of Secrets, forsaken by his friends, defeated at last by the Dark Lord he so unwisely challenged. You’ll be back with your dear Mudblood mother soon, Harry. She bought you twelve years of borrowed time, but Lord Voldemort got you in the end as you knew he must.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer glared at Tom with one eye from under the brim of his hat. This was it. Was this what dying was supposed to be like? The Chamber seemed to be coming back into focus. Harry gave his head a little shake, and there was Fawkes, still resting his head on Harry’s leg with a pearly patch of tears surrounding the wound. Except the wound was gone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Get away, bird.” Riddle spoke up, “Get away from him. I said, </span>
  <em>
    <span>get away!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry looked up. Riddle was pointing Harry’s wand at Fawkes and there was a loud bang before Fawkes took flight again in a whirl of gold and scarlet. Harry needed to learn how to cast spells without announcing it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Phoenix tears” Riddle spoke, looking at the hole in Harry’s trousers, “Of course… healing powers… I forgot.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Idiot</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked into Harry’s face, “But it makes no difference. In fact, I prefer it this way. Just you and me, Harry Potter… you and me…” He raised the wand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then in a rush of wings, Fawkes soared back overhead and something fell into Harry’s lap - the diary.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For a split second, both Harry and Tom, wand still raised, stared at it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck you, Tom.” Harry said before plunging the basilisk fang on the floor next to him straight through the cover and into the heart of the book.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a long, piercing scream. Ink spurted out of the diary, bleeding out half a century of malice all over Harry’s hands, flooding the floor around him. Riddle was writhing, screaming, twisting and flailing on the ground and was gone. Harry’s wand fell to the floor with a clatter, and then there was a stillness. Everything was silent as a held breath save for the steady dripping of ink still oozing from the diary. The Basilisk venom had burned a sizzling hole right through it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer dragged himself up off the floor, holding onto the diary by the Basilisk fang still stabbed through it. He picked up his wand again and began his exhausted hobble toward the far end of the chamber.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ginny moaned like a sleeper awakening from a nightmare. The Hammer hurried to her as she sat up. She looked to him, the pieces of the enormous snake scattered about the room, and finally to the skewered diary in the Hammer’s hand. She drew in a great, shuddering gasp and tears began to pour down her face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Harry - Hammer - oh Harry - I tried to say something. I tried to tell, but I just </span>
  <em>
    <span>couldn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span> Harry - but I - I s-swear I didn’t mean to - R-Riddle made me, he t-took me over - and - </span>
  <em>
    <span>how</span>
  </em>
  <span> did you kill that - that thing? Where’s Riddle? The last thing I r-remember is him coming out of the diary.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tom’s dead, sweetheart. Don’t worry. Tom’s dead.” The Hammer held up the remains of the diary for her to see. “Let’s get out of here, Gin. This place really kills the mood.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m going to be expelled!” Ginny wept as Harry helped her to her feet, “I’ve looked forward to coming to Hogwarts ever since B-Bill came and n-now I’ll have to leave and - w-what’ll </span>
  <em>
    <span>Mum</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dad</span>
  </em>
  <span> say?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hell of a first year, right?” The Hammer said as he ushered her back toward the Chamber’s entrance. Fawkes was already waiting for them, hovering whilst Harry helped her step over the bits and pieces of Basilisk, through the echoing gloom and back into the tunnel. The Hammer heard the stone doors close behind them with a soft hiss. Ginny kept weeping, talking about her own demise and expulsion, saying that they were going to put her in Azkaban for this.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t worry about it. I killed a professor last year and I’m still here. Buck up, kiddo.” Harry said matter-of-factly as he led her through the dark tunnels, “And Gin? Next time you need someone to talk to, come up to the office before you bare your heart to a magic book.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> He caught a look of wonder on her blushing face as they followed Fawkes up through the tunnels.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Back at the area Harry had landed in, he looked back up the pipe he had slid down from, seeing it disappear back up into darkness.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You wouldn’t happen to know a good levitation spell, would you?” Harry asked aloud as he wondered about the logistics of it. Fawkes pecked his hand lightly, taking flight again and hovering in front of the two of them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I- I think he wants you to grab hold.” Ginny said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Grab a foot?” Harry asked, Fawkes nodded as he bobbed in the air.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer motioned for Ginny to grab on first - she took one side and Harry took the other. An otherworldly lightness seemed to spread throughout his whole body and with a woosh, they were flying upward through the pipe. Ginny wrapped an arm around Harry to hold on, the Hammer returning the gesture for balance.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before he knew it, the ride was over. Harry found himself hitting the wet floor of Myrtle’s bathroom, still entangled with Ginny Weasley.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re alive!” Myrtle ogled them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No need to be so disappointed about it.” The Hammer said, wiping the grime from his glasses. A few moments later, the door burst open and a handful of Professors rushed in.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Chapter 20</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Professor McGonagall led the pack with Longbaugh and Flitwick barging in after her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My word. Mason! Weasley! Are you two alright?” Professor McGonagall said with a start, looking between the Hammer, Ginny, Fawkes and the hole in the ground.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I-” Harry untangled himself and was helped to his feet by Professor Longbaugh, Professor Flitwick assisting Ginny.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think we’re all a little cold.” Harry spoke finally, succumbing to a shiver.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, of course, please come with me.” Professor McGonagall led them out the door and down the halls to her office. She knocked twice as a polite announcement before opening the door. For a moment there was silence with Harry and Ginny standing in the doorway covered in muck, slime, and in the Hammer’s case, blood. Then there was a scream.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ginny!” It was Molly Weasley, who had been sitting and crying in front of the fire. She leapt to her feet with Arthur not far behind her and the both of them flung themselves on their daughter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry grinned, catching the Chief standing next to the mantelpiece beaming. Fawkes flew in past them and landed on Dumbledore’s shoulder just as Molly dragged Harry into her embrace.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You saved her! Oh Harry, thank you! How did you do it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think we’d all like to know that.” Professor McGonagall said like she had just recovered from palpitations.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mrs. Weasley let go of Harry, who took off his hat and brushed it off before walking in and laying what remained of the Diary on the desk. He pulled out his notebook and shook it in front of the fire, a few droplets sprinkling out and sizzling in the flames.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer started talking and didn’t seem to stop. He started with meeting the ghost of Myrtle Warren in October, the cold case, the voice in the walls, how Hermione and Neville had been working on causes and defences against petrification. He told them about how Hermione had been the one to leave him the note in her hand about the Basilisk. He told them about interrogating Professor Lockhart, to which Longbaugh coughed and gave him a little wave of his hand to move it along - and finally he walked them through how he had found the entrance to the Chamber in Myrtle’s bathroom and Tom and Ginny with it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Very well,” Professor McGonagall prompted him during a pause, “So you broke about a hundred school rules in finding the entrance despite ample warning to wait for help to arrive, but how on </span>
  <em>
    <span>earth</span>
  </em>
  <span> did you all get out of there alive, Mason?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer, his voice growing hoarse, told them about his preparation, leaving out the names of all the different Weasleys involved and moved on to Fawkes’ timely arrival. He stopped, looking to the Chief, he hadn’t mentioned Ginny’s name so far or how the Diary fit into the picture. She was standing with her head against Mrs. Weasley’s shoulder, tears still coursing silently down her cheeks. The Chief grinned, looking over Harry in his torn robes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What interests </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span> most,” he interjected, “is how Lord Voldemort managed to enchant Ginny, when my sources tell me he is currently hiding in the forests of Albania.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“W-what’s that?” Mr. Weasley spoke in a stunned voice, “You-Know-Who? En-enchant </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ginny</span>
  </em>
  <span>? But Ginny’s not… Ginny hasn’t been… has she?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was this diary,” Harry picked up the punctured book and waved it. “Tom said he made it when he was sixteen.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Chief took it from Harry and peered keenly down his long, crooked nose at it - flipping through a few burnt and soggy pages.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Brilliant.” He murmured to himself, “Of course he was probably the most brilliant student Hogwarts has ever seen.” He turned around to the Weasleys, who were looking utterly bewildered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Very few people know that Lord Voldemort was once called Tom Riddle. I taught him myself, fifty years ago, at Hogwarts. He disappeared after leaving the school, traveled far and wide, sank deeply into the Dark Arts, consorted with the very worst of our kind, underwent so many dangerous magical transformations, that when he resurfaced as Lord Voldemort, he was barely recognisable. Hardly anyone connected Lord Voldemort with the clever, handsome boy who was once Head Boy here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But Ginny,” said Mrs. Weasley, “What’s our Ginny got to do with - with him?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“His d-diary!” Ginny sobbed, “I’ve b-been writing in it, and he’s been w-writing back all year-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Ginny!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Mr. Weasley exclaimed, “Haven’t I taught you </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span>? What have I always told you? Never trust anything that can think for itself </span>
  <em>
    <span>if you can’t see where it keeps its brain</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Why didn’t you show the diary to me, or your mother? A suspicious object like that, it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>clearly</span>
  </em>
  <span> full of Dark Magic!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She’s-” Harry spoke up, thinking about what Hermione had said, “She’s growing up, Arthur. Sometimes a girl just wants a friend that understands her and is willing to listen. Tom’s pure evil, but he was charming when he felt like it. He tried to lie to me as well.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ginny flushed scarlet, staring in wonder at Harry.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Miss Weasley should go up to the hospital wing straight away.” The Chief cut in. “This has been a terrible ordeal for her. There will be no punishment. Older and wiser wizards than she have been hoodwinked by Voldemort.” he strode over to the door and opened it, “Bed rest and perhaps a large, steaming mug of hot chocolate. I always find that cheers me up.” He added with a twinkle in his eye, “You will find that Madam Pomfrey is still awake. She’s just giving out Mandrake juice - I dare say the basilisk’s victims will be waking up any moment.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So Hermione and Luna and the rest?” The Hammer asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There has been no lasting harm done.” Dumbledore said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mrs. Weasley led Ginny out, Mr. Weasley following, looking deeply shaken.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know, Minerva,” Professor Dumbledore said, “I think all this merits a good </span>
  <em>
    <span>feast</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Might I ask you to go and alert the kitchens?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right,” She responded, back to proper form, also moving to the door, “I’ll just leave you to deal with Mr. Mason, shall I?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Certainly.” The Chief said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She left and Dumbledore took a seat on the corner of Professor McGonagall’s desk, looking Harry over.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know, Harry, I used to have an ensemble just like that. Hat and all. I’m afraid you might be a little more than half a century too late for its popularity.” The Chief picked up Harry’s slimy hat from the desk, shaking it a bit before making it clean with a wave of his wand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I still like it.” Harry said, receiving his fedora back from Dumbledore.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Though, I must apologise, Harry, for not taking more serious action when you attempted to warn me earlier in the year about all of this. I feel you and your team are well deserving of Special Awards for Services to the School and - let me see - despite your dismissal of the competition, two hundred points apiece for Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Chief got up from the desk and crossed to one of the chairs by the fire, using one hand to invite Harry to the other, “Please sit, Harry. I have a feeling we’ll be here a while.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer took the seat gratefully, sinking in and feeling the welcome warmth of the flames as the day drained out of him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have to commend you, Harry. You must have shown me great loyalty for Fawkes to have answered your call.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That so? I figured it was all part of your plan, Chief. You struck me as a natural schemer.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dumbledore gave a wry smile, “While that may be true, Fawkes won’t simply listen to me, Harry. He is, in my experience, an excellent judge of character and loyalty. Does this mean your opinion of me has changed?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry looked up to the ceiling, resting the top of his head against the back of the chair before rolling it down from left to right, “I suppose so, Chief. After that song and dance with the Cintamani stone, I didn’t know if I could trust you - or if you even trusted me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I worry about you, Harry. You’re so young and yet you’ve jumped headfirst into accepting all the responsibilities of someone much older. But even if I worry, I do trust you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry looked at the Chief sidelong, “I guess all of this proves that I trust you too. But I stand by what I said when you were leaving: the truth is the most important thing we can get to.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dumbledore gave a deferrential snort, “Be that as it may, Harry, sometimes you must learn when the truth is appropriate.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like I said Chief, natural schemer.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer stared into the flames a while, the light crackling amongst the logs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You said he was brilliant, Chief. Tom Riddle, I mean.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes. Academically he was an exemplary student. To the public, during his time as Tom Riddle, he was a role model.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He - well, whatever was in the diary - it told me that when he made it, he did it with Dark Magic. Something complex and ‘to some, </span>
  <em>
    <span>vile</span>
  </em>
  <span>.’ He said. Do you know what it could be?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dumbledore stared into the dancing flames, silent for some time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t, Harry. I find it regrettable. I wish I had the answer for you. Though depending on the depths of its darkness, I fear I would not tell you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I just want to know if there’s anything more - anything else like that. Any other diaries with echoes of Tom Riddle hidden in them. I don’t have to tell you how dangerous that might be.” The Hammer spun his hat in both hands, fingers on one hand pinching the brim and passing it to the other.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Chief grumbled, fingers steepled beneath his half moon glasses, the firelight dancing in his eyes giving him a sharp, analytical look.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you come back in time to help Professor Longbaugh with Lockhart?” Harry asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah,” Dumbledore looked up from his thoughts in the hearth, “yes - I was. It was a most unfortunate business but the Ministry’s Aurors have taken him. I dare say you’ve been busy in my absence.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is he going to receive a proper trial?” The Hammer asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I should hope so, though that will be an issue best left to the Wizengamot.” Dumbledore rubbed his hands together, leaning closer to the fire.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry tucked his knees up and wrapped his arms around his legs. He looked his age sitting in the firelight - young and exhausted wearing a hat his father had bought him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tom gave me that ‘we’re not so different, you and I’ talk. He said I was the first Parselmouth since him and Slytherin.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Did</span>
  </em>
  <span> he now?” Dumbledore asked, looking thoughtfully at Harry from under his thick silver eyebrows, “What do you make of it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I figure he just likes talking. That or he might be onto something, but I can’t quite figure out where it’s going. All I do know is that there are a lot of loose ends. When this, “ he put his feet back to the floor and waved one arm vaguely around them, “is all over, I can go back to Myrtle and finally give her an answer to who killed her. We can do </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> for Hagrid after he gets out, can’t we? He was framed, Chief, and now we finally have the evidence to let him be a normal wizard again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dumbledore began to laugh, honest and earnest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Harry, I believe that’s the nicest thing anyone has offered to do for our wayward gameskeeper - though it would seem Voldemort had transferred some of his own powers into you the night he gave you that scar. Not something he intended to do, I’m sure…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So that’s why I can speak snake, you think?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That and perhaps more, Harry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer held up both of his hands, looking at them back and front, “Well I don’t feel myself turning into a Dark Lord. I certainly don’t own any land so I wouldn’t qualify for peerage.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dumbledore laughed again, stroking his beard to straighten it out. “I do suggest, Harry, that you go get some food and take a well earned sleep. Go down to the feast while I write Azkaban - we need our gameskeeper back. And I’ll have to make an advertisement for the Daily Prophet, too.” He got up and took a seat behind Professor McGonagall’s desk, fishing out a quill and a bottle of ink, “We’ll be needing a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. We do seem to run through them, don’t we?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry put his hat back on and walked to the door. As he reached for the handle, the door burst open so violently it bounced off the wall behind it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lucius Malfoy stood there, a look on his face of barely restrained fury. Under his arm, almost mummified in bandages, was Dobby.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good evening, Lucius.” Dumbledore said pleasantly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lucius almost knocked the Hammer over, sweeping straight past him and into the room. Dobby scurried after him, crouching at the hem of his master’s cloak with a look of abject terror.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So!” Malfoy almost spat, eyes fixed on the Chief, “you’ve come back. The governors suspended you, but you still saw fit to return to Hogwarts.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, you see, Lucius,” Dumbledore smiled serenely, “The other eleven governors contacted me today. It was something like being caught in a hailstorm of owls, to tell the truth. They’d heard that Arthur Weasley’s daughter had been killed and wanted me back here at once. They seemed to think I was the best man for the job after all. Very strange tales they told me, too. Several of them seemed to think that you had threatened to curse their families if they didn’t agree to suspend me in the first place.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mr. Malfoy lost what little colour there normally was to his face, his eyes still burning with fury.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So - have you stopped the attacks yet?” he sneered, “Have you caught the culprit?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We have as a matter of fact.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well,” Malfoy spat, “Who is it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The same person it was last time, Lucius.” Dumbledore replied, “But this time Lord Voldemort was acting through somebody else. By means of this diary.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Chief held up the small black book with the large hole through the centre, watching Mr. Malfoy’s reaction. Harry, on the other hand, was watching Dobby.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The elf was doing something odd - his great eyes fixed onto Harry’s. He pointed at the diary, and then to Malfoy, and then hit himself hard on the head with his fist. The Hammer read the message loud and clear.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I see…” Malfoy spoke in a drawl.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A clever plan,” Dumbledore continued, “because if Harry here -” Lucius shot a sharp look at the Hammer, “and his friends had not discovered the true nature of this book, why - Ginny Weasley might have taken all the blame. No one would ever be able to prove she hadn’t acted of her own free will…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Malfoy said nothing, his expression suddenly neutral.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And just imagine,” The Chief pressed on, “What might have happened then. The Weasleys are one of our most prominent pure blood families. Imagine the effect of Arthur Weasley and his Muggle Protection Act, if his own daughter was discovered attacking and killing Muggle-borns. Very fortunate the diary was discovered, and Riddle’s memories wiped from it. Who knows what the consequences might have been otherwise…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How… very fortunate.” Malfoy replied haltingly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dobby continued to point to the diary, then to Malfoy, then punching himself in the head. The Hammer nodded. Dobby seemed to be relieved, but backed away into a corner, silently twisting his own ears in punishment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not curious how Gin got a hold of that dark artifact?” The Hammer spoke up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How should I know how the stupid little girl got hold of it?” Lucius said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because you gave it to her, Lucy. In Flourish and Blotts during the fight with Arthur. You slipped it in there and tossed it back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Malfoy scowled, hand clenching and unclenching, “Prove it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, no one will be able to do that,” Dumbledore gave Harry a smile, “not now that Riddle’s essence has vanished from the book. On the other hand, I would advise you Lucius, not to go giving out any more of Lord Voldemort’s old school things. If any more of them find their way into innocent hands, I think Arthur Weasley, for one, will make sure they are traced back to you…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lucius’s hand twitched as though it wanted for a wand. Instead, he turned to his house-elf.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re going, Dobby!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wrenched open the door, and as the elf hurried up to him, he kicked him right through it. Dobby squealed with pain all the way along the corridor. The Hammer took a moment to think.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Chief.” Harry turned to the headmaster, “You think I can give that diary </span>
  <em>
    <span>back</span>
  </em>
  <span> to Lucy?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Certainly, Harry, though do hurry, there </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>a feast.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer grabbed the diary, removing the fang before stepping outside, stepping on the heel of his shoe to remove his foot from it and peeling off the slimy, filthy sock. He shoved the mangled diary into it before running down the corridor after them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Lucy.” He called out to Malfoy, “I’ve got something for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry forced the whole thing into Malfoy’s hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What the-?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lucius peeled the filthy sock off the book and tossed it aside, looking between the ruined book and the Hammer like he wanted to strangle him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ll meet the same sticky end as your parents one of these days, Harry Potter.” He whispered, “They were meddlesome fools, too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He turned to leave, “Come Dobby, I said, </span>
  <em>
    <span>come</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dobby didn’t move. He had caught the Hammer’s disgusting sock and was looking at it as though it were a priceless treasure.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Master has given Dobby a sock.” The elf said in wonder, “Master gave it to Dobby.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s that?” Malfoy spat, “What did you say?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dobby has got a sock,” Dobby said in disbelief, “Master threw it, and Dobby caught it, and Dobby - Dobby is </span>
  <em>
    <span>free</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Malfoy’s expression devolved into a snarl. He lunged at Harry, who moved into a boxer’s stance. “You’ve lost me my servant, boy!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dobby shouted, “You shall not harm Harry Potter-Mason!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a loud bang and Malfoy was thrown backwards, crashing down the stairs, three at a time, landing in a crumpled heap on the landing below. Harry bounded after him, pulling the brass knuckles from his belt pouch.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer landed atop Lucius before he could stand, his first blow landing on the man’s face brass and all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I told you, Lucy!” The Hammer yelled, pulling back for another punch,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“-rearrange your-” and another,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“stupid face!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A hand grabbed Harry’s wrist and yanked him off of Lucius Malfoy, whose nose was broken and bloody.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I do believe you’ve lost, Lucius.” Dumbledore said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dobby stood nearby, finger pointed down at him, “You shall go now. You shall not touch Harry Potter-Mason. You shall go now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Malfoy gave an enraged scream curdled by the blood dripping down onto the stone floor before swinging his cloak and scuttling out of sight.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You really must work on your temper, Harry.” Dumbledore started, but was interrupted when Dobby tackled Harry into a hug.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Harry Potter-Mason freed Dobby!” He yelled, shrill voice piercing with the moonlight reflected in his orb-like eyes, “Harry Potter-Mason set Dobby free!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Least I could do, pal.” Harry said with a grin, “just promise to never try to save my life again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The elf broke into a wide, toothy grin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“One question, Dobby.” Harry asked whilst Dobby pulled on the filthy sock with shaking, gleeful hands, “You told me this didn’t have anything to do with Voldy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was a clue, sir,” Dobby’s eyes widened, “Dobby was giving you a clue. The Dark Lord before he changed his name, could be named freely, you see?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer nodded, “I think I’ll just keep calling him Tom.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Chief pat Harry on the back, “Now that this is concluded, I believe you’re still owed a celebration.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dobby looked between him and Harry before giving Harry another hug.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Harry Potter-Mason is greater by far than Dobby knew!” He sobbed, “Farewell, Harry Potter-Mason!” And he disappeared in a final, loud crack.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Neville ambushed an exhausted Harry when he came into the Great Hall. The two of them were the only ones not in their pyjamas.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hammer! You did it! You’re alive!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I sure hope so, Nev. What happened to you and Sundance?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The Aurors showed up and grabbed Professor Lockhart, then they started asking us all these questions - Professor Longbaugh convinced them about your story and when they took one look at Lockhart, he just started telling them everything he told you all over again!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry smiled an exhausted smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So how did you do it, Hammer?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He told Neville all about it on their way to eat - interrupting himself only to grab extra large helpings of food and to accept congratulatory pats on the back from the Weasley twins and their brother, Ron. Justin even came over from the Hufflepuff table to apologise for suspecting him. Not too long after, Hermione came in, a light in her eyes as she ran toward them yelling, “You solved it! You solved it!” Before wrapping her arms around Harry’s grimy neck. After a moment she pulled Neville in too, and the team celebrated their success.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The celebration continued on well into the night, and Hagrid joined them at three in the morning, cuffing the three of them so hard on the shoulders that Harry almost lost his hat into the trifle. It was smiles all around as the obscene amount of points that their investigation team had earned drove the competition for the House Cup down to a Ravenclaw lead with Hufflepuff a short way behind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At some point in the feast, the Chief took the stand and announced that end of year exams would be cancelled, much to Hermione’s chagrin - she had already created a set of enormous, colour coded study binders that she had planned on using in her revisions. In addition to that, he announced that Professor Lockhart wouldn’t be returning for the next year - or any year after that until the unnamed charges lodged against him were solidified and he served his term in Azkaban. Many of the female students had horrified looks on their faces at the news, Hermione included. The Hammer finally had his turn to be smug, but he was too exhausted to do anything more than reach over and take hold of her wrist. A majority of the students cheered - and quite a number of the teachers too. Harry couldn’t help but notice Longbaugh whistling during the applause.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Chapter 21</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The beginning of summer term came peacefully - after a day of regular classes including DADA, which Longbaugh had drawn the short straw on yet again to replace an otherwise incapacitated former teacher, the Hammer took some time to himself to re-read the day’s newspapers up in his office. He couldn’t keep the smile off of his face looking at the headline:</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“BOY WHO LIVED CRACKS SCHOOL ATTACK CASE” with a smaller front page article titled, “DISGRACED CELEBRITY WIZARD ARRESTED FOR MEMORY CRIMES, ALLEGATIONS OF SEXUAL ABUSE”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Prophet hadn’t done much different from their normal muck-raking, so he felt like Hermione and Neville hadn’t had their proper credit to their involvement with the year’s events - but the Wizarding World News had given them a paragraph amidst the sensationalism. The Hammer had ordered an extra two copies to send home to his mum and dad. In a little fourth page article buried inside the Prophet, there had been an announcement that Lucius Malfoy had been sacked from the board of governors to the school. It was a good news day all around.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry folded up the papers and began taking down the slips of paper on the thought board, putting them away into a folder labelled “Serpent’s Shadow” before filing it into the cabinet. There were still some loose ends he’d want to deal with before the year was out. He had replaced the ‘V’ sheet with a new one that read ‘Tom Deadman’. He thought it was clever enough.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Unfolding the Marauder’s map from his pocket, he turned it on and began to pore over the entire spread on his desk, looking from name to name to endless name yet again. Up in the Gryffindor dormitories, he caught sight of one labeled quite clearly, “Peter Pet-” before it disappeared behind something again. There was no mistaking it. A knock at his door pulled the Hammer’s attention away from the map.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello, Hammer! Quite a nice place you’ve found.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Very moody, I rather like it. Ron was right.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fred and George had shown up as per his earlier invitation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So what is it you wanted to see us about? More rubber chickens? A few whizz-bangs or two?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, something a little strange you two might be able to help me with.” Harry opened his door wide and let them into the office, a hand sweeping to indicate the Marauder’s map.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Something wrong with it?” Fred peered over the map, looking at the secret passages.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Everything looks to be in order.” George nodded sagely, tracing the outlines.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This, right here.” Harry pointed a finger into the Gryffindor dorms where he had seen the name. “I saw a name for someone who might be ‘Peter Pettigrew’. Does that ring any bells for you two?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The twins looked between each other and shook their heads.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where is this, anyway?” The Hammer asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Looks about where Ron’s bed is, actually.” George said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“About right, about right. Why’s this got you in such a twist?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Listen, I don’t expect you to believe me-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hammer, you dusted a professor last year and not a full month ago you saved our sister from a dirty great snake and You-Know-Who. Even if we didn’t trust everything you had to say, we owe you for that much.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But we do trust you. Or at least we’ll follow your hunch.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer nodded, “I appreciate it. I want to know who else might be in that part of the dorm.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t imagine anyone else would want to share Ron’s bed except for maybe his pet rat.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That old beat up one he’s had since last year? I remember it from the Hogwarts Express.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, he’s had it longer than that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“By a lot? Like three or four?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Er- now that you mention it, Scabber’s been around…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fred started thinking back, counting on his fingers. “Going on past ten…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>George looked at him with an eyebrow raised, “has it been that long? He’s catching up to Errol at this rate.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You two think you could bring it to me here? In a cage?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a moment of silence as the twins stared at Harry, trying to figure out what it was he was on about.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean - we can steal Scabbers for you, no problem, Hammer.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s just a wee bit strange.” they both nodded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It might have to do with a case I’m working on,” The Hammer said, “if it’s nothing then Ron’ll get him right back, no harm no foul.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’re you planning on doing with Scabbers?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I figure if I can see him on the map, then that’s a start. I just need to ask it some questions, do a couple tests - see if there’s anything suspicious. Believe it or not, this might connect right back to Tom.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s Voldemort’s old name.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fred put his hand over his heart, “Please, Hammer. Y’don’t need to go waving the He-who-musn’t-be-named flag all the time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Will you do it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure Hammer, sure. Give us some time, yeah? We’ll have him up here for you maybe tomorrow once we can distract Ron.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>*</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Twins were good to their word. They came by the next day with the rat in its travel cage and set it down on the Hammer’s desk.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How long has it been missing a toe?” Harry asked them as he spun the cage to look it over. The rat sat staring at him with beady little eyes, whiskers twitching in animal pensiveness.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Honestly, can’t remember. Might’ve gotten into a scuffle in the garden when we were but wee tots.” George waxed poetic.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, if you don’t mind, keep Ron distracted while I do my thing, would you?” Harry asked, “and probably Hermione too, if she asks about it. She’ll probably be livid I’m messing with people’s pets.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The twins gave him overblown salutes and spun around, marching out the door with grins on their faces, leaving Harry alone with a caged garden rat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry leaned down next to the cage, examining the animal. It did look a little old and it felt like the only notable thing about it was that it was missing one of its toes. He grumbled as the rat sank back on its haunches, cleaning itself like it had nothing to do and nowhere to go.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry threw a cloth over its cage, resulting in protesting squeaks, before laying out the Marauder’s map. If there was a way to get proper identification on it, he could start there. Searching through the map, he slapped a hand to his forehead. The office wasn’t listed in the diagram so there would be no way for him to know or see who he had in there with him. He decided to move his operation somewhere he knew wouldn’t be invaded by prying eyes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>*</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Myrtle’s bathroom was mostly silent save for her usual weeping.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh! Harry, come to visit?” She perked up as soon as he slipped in, closing the door as quietly as he could.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just here to do some work, you don’t mind, do you, Myrtle?” He asked, tipping his hat to her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t kiss and tell.” She said with a mischievous grin on her face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer set the covered cage down on the floor before stepping back a few paces and unfurling the map, whispering, “I solemnly swear I am up to no good.” and tapping his wand to it. The picture came in with the usual theatrics and the Hammer found the room he was looking for. His own name hovered next to a black dot, flanked on the far side by Myrtle’s. In the middle, one labeled ‘Peter Pettigrew’ did small circles inside the cage. Harry waved his hand to Myrtle, calling her over.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She did a slow, lazy arc until her ghostly head was looking curiously over his shoulder. “What is it?” She asked. Harry pointed at the spot on the map, “I think I just found what I was looking for, sweetheart.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Harry folded it up and put the map away again before kneeling down next to the cage and whipping the cloth off. The rodent inside gave a surprised squeak at the sudden light, spinning around the cage trying to figure out where it was before calming down and cleaning itself with nervous twitches of its whiskered nose, one eye looking at Harry’s staring face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello, Peter.” Harry said. The rat paused a moment too long before going back to scratching itself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So I’m going to guess, Scabbers, Peter, whoever you are, that you’re not what Ron or the rest of the Weasleys think you are. You’ve got one chance to come clean.” Harry glowered at it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The rat continued to be a rat and chittered to itself in the cage, idly scratching and cleaning. The Hammer picked up the cage and brought it to his eye level.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tell you what: I’m going to dunk you in water. At first it’ll be for one second. It’ll be a second longer every time after that. Let’s see how long you can keep playing at this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you doing, Harry?” Myrtle asked as the Hammer crossed to one of the stalls. The rat squeaked in panic as its cage swayed with Harry’s rough handling.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Finding out the truth.” Harry said, lifting up the toilet seat and plunging the cage down into the water. He lifted it up and the rat began to squeal, its fur waterlogged, running about in its confines in a panic. The Hammer dunked it again, counting to two out loud before pulling it back out. He let the rat catch its breath and continue tiring itself out running futile laps in its cage before shoving it harshly back down and counting to three. When he had reached ten seconds under water, the Hammer left the cage in the bowl and pulled on the flush chain. Once the water level had fallen, squeaking and squealing echoed off the bathroom tiles, Harry lifting the cage back out and yelling, “You’re only making it harder on yourself!” before plunging it back in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The exterior door to the bathroom slammed open and two sets of footsteps came running to the stall he was in, two sets of hands dragged him away from the toilet bowl and caused him to drop the cage to the floor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Harry, what are you doing?” Hermione yelled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you mental, mate? That’s my rat!” Ron yelled at the same time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Harry! This is animal abuse!” Hermione continued, fighting him as he tried to make his way back over to the cage. Ron lifted it up and the rodent came up to the bars, little paws reaching out toward a more familiar face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Leave it in the cage, Ron!” Harry yelled, “he’s not what you think!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you on about? Why were you trying to drown my pet rat?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Hammer finally stopped struggling so hard and brushed off Hermione’s grasp when she relented and stood up, straightening his clothes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s a dirty fink, Ron! Gimme another ten minutes with him and I’ll prove it to you!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Another ten minutes with you and I’ll have to buy a new rat!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Harry!” Hermione tugged on his arm, “Just slow down and explain - what are you trying to do here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, the rat isn’t just a rat,” Myrtle drifted out of one of the adjacent stalls and hovered toward Ron, who leaned away from her, “The map said he was Peter.” Scabbers squealed desperately from inside the cage as Myrtle poked at it through the bars.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Peter?” Hermione asked, “Peter Pettigrew?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, that's’ the one.” Harry said, shoving his hands in his pockets.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We can take him to Professor McGonagall. She’s the transfiguration teacher and an animagus.” Hermione offered, extending a hand to Ron for the cage.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re just mental! The both of you! What’s Scabbers got to do with Peter what’s-his-name?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hermione didn’t say anything, merely leaving her hand extended, giving Ron a level stare. Harry looked at the floor tiles, both hands in his pockets.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ron hesitated, looking back at the caged rat. “It doesn’t make any sense!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“People can turn into animals, Ron. That’s something every wizard knows, right?” Harry asked, still not looking at Ron.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I-” Ron sputtered</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We don’t want to hurt him. We just want to know if he’s the pet you think he is.” Hermione said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ron looked at the rat, then at the two investigators, “How’d you even figure that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fred and George trusted me.” Harry said, finally looking up at Ron, “I saved Ginny on a wild hunch. I beat Tom last year on a wild hunch. Will you let me find out if your rat is what you think he is?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The little rat did panic circles in its cage, throwing itself against the bars. Ron still had a disbelieving look on his face. He looked down at Scabbers, who had stopped and looked like it was pleading with Ron with its rodent expression.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Only-” Ron clenched his eyes shut, “Only if we take him to a Professor. I don’t want you to hurt Scabbers anymore.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s all I want to do.” Hermione said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ron gave her the cage and the rat gave a long, wailing squeal.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>**</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Professor McGonagall didn’t know what to make of the situation,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you saying, Mr. Mason, that Mr. Weasley’s rat is not only an animagus, but also possibly a missing person previously believed to have been murdered?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That about sums it up.” Harry said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That is a very serious and far-fetched accusation.” She said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just mental is all it is.” Ron sulked, “nicking my pet and shoving it in the loo.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>McGonagall sighed. “If it were anyone else I would be deducting house points and assigning detention - but given the events of this year…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And last.” Harry added.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“... and last.” Professor McGonagall conceded, begrudgingly, “I believe the correct answer may be to take this to the headmaster.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The rat practically exploded in panic, slamming itself against the bars of its cage with a renewed fervour, gnawing at them and squealing, the change in balance almost wringing the whole works out of Hermione’s grip.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That basically proves it!” Harry pointed at the cage.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Patience, Mister Mason. We’ll see soon.” She led the group out of her office and to the headmaster’s gargoyle - ‘Chocolate Toffee’ was the new password.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Chief looked up from his desk with a twinkle in his eye when he saw Harry, Hermione, and Ron striding in behind Professor McGonagall.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why, Harry, what is it you’ve brought me this time?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Chief, this is the stuff that dreams are made of.”</span>
</p>
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